


Three Shades of Fifty

by KezzaG



Category: 50 Shades of Grey - E. L. James
Genre: BDSM, Cybersex, F/F, F/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Original Universe, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Queer Friendly, Queer Themes, Smut, Spanking, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesomes, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 52,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KezzaG/pseuds/KezzaG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our story starts when Ana fails to tell Christian she's a virgin. Her feelings for Kate will take a backseat to start, but soon she can't deny them any longer as Christian explores more about her sexual education than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana's first time doesn't quite go the way it did in the book...

Chapter 1 –––––––––––

The First Time

I have met someone. His name is Christian Grey, he’s gorgeous, he’s a billionaire. And he wants me.

Okay, _breathe, Ana. BREATHE._

Any girl would be over the moon about this, but somehow I have reservations. I’m definitely attracted to him, but I find myself hesitating. I’ve never slept with anyone and I’m nervous. That must be it. Yet, part of me isn’t sure that’s the whole reason.

I’m standing there, running my fingers along the red satin sheets on the four-poster bed, letting my eyes wander over the whips, chains, and canes, and my mind starts making all sorts of unapproved side trips. I think about Christian’s lips on mine in the elevator, about his hand on the inside of my thigh, about the lacy underwear I have on, and about Kate. I imagine her ridiculous grin when I tell her that I slept with Christian Grey. “Oh, Ana, that’s so hot!” she would growl.

I turn around to face him. Maybe it’s that last glass of wine giving me confidence. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks. “Okay, what?”

I take a deep breath and steel myself. “Okay, I’ll sign whatever you want.”

A huge shit-eating grin spreads over his face. He walks slowly over to me until we’re inches apart. My body seems attuned to his and I feel that spark once more. 

“Really?” The grin is gone and all that’s left is the sexiest stare I’ve ever seen on a man’s face. Kate would know what to do in this situation. I just feel like I’m melting into a puddle on the floor.

I say meekly, so quiet even I can hardly hear myself, “Yes, sir.”

I hear him growl — growl! — and he immediately takes my hand and leads me back to his study, where I can sign all the appropriate papers. I tell him I’m not really sure what fisting is but I’m pretty confident I wouldn’t like it. 

“We can work out the particulars of the hard and soft limits in the morning,” he says. He looks incredibly edible with a lusty, dark expression. I bite my lip and he stands.

“You’re biting your lip,” he says.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s just that I want to bite it too, hard,” he murmurs and he sweeps every last item, including all the as-yet unsigned documents from his desk. He loosens his tie and walks around the desk slowly. His entire demeanor has changed. He’s domineering almost and demanding. I feel a wetness between my legs and a quickening in my chest.

“Stand up.” I do as I’m told immediately. As he passes behind me, he kicks the chair I was sitting on from underneath me, letting him slide right up against my backside. His hand rests on my right butt cheek softly and I moan softly. Before I realize what has happened, he’s smacked me soundly on the ass. I let out a small shriek, but his hand is back on my butt, caressing it gently.

“Shh, Miss Steele. You must learn to mind your tongue,” he says. He gives me another sharp smack on the ass but I keep completely silent. He presses his hardness against my left cheek as he caresses my right again with his hand. “Good girl.”

His hand runs down my leg to the hem of Kate’s dress and his fingers run along my bare thigh there, pulling the dress ever so slightly.

“Now, before we get ahead of ourselves, Miss Steele, are you on any form of birth control right now?” he asks. _Oh god, should I be?_

“No, sir.” I squeak.

“Aha, I didn’t think so.” I feel him shift as he pulls a condom from his left pocket and tosses it onto the desk in front of me. “Better safe than sorry, Miss Steele.” His left hand joins his right, playing with the slowly rising hem of my dress, Kate’s dress. I idly wonder if she has ever had sex wearing this dress.

“Now bend over and grab the edge of the desk.” I do as I’m told, bent just slightly at the waist. “Take a small step towards me, Miss Steele.” Again, I follow orders, and I feel my ass press into Christian’s stiffness, sending a current straight to my groin. I can’t help my sharp intake of breath at the sensation.

“You do have a breath-taking posterior, Miss Steele,” he says as both his hands rub over my entire ass until his fingers hook around my hips and he pulls me into him hard. _Very hard_. I smirk at my play on words. I’m now completely bent, at a right angle and can feel myself becoming wetter by the moment.

“Spread your legs for me.”

I hesitate slightly, trying to figure out how to properly shift my weight so as not to fall over. Before I can react, his right hand leaves my backside and quickly returns, spanking me much harder than before, then again. I almost cry out, but manage to stop myself before more than a small “meep!” escapes my lips.

“Spread. Your. Legs,” he says deliberately.

This time, I do as he commands, and quickly. My ass is throbbing now and I feel very exposed. Kate’s dress is still covering me, but I have a feeling that won’t last. My entire undercarriage, if you will, is facing him, and my head is dropped. All I can see are our four feet and the floor. He walks to my left side, continuing around the desk again.

“Wider.” I shimmy, best I can, until my knees are about shoulder-width apart, straining against the skirt of the dress. I know my feet will start to hurt soon, the heels are too high for this to be comfortable for long.

“Good,” I hear him say. I can tell he’s on the other side of the desk, circling around.

“Now, Miss Steele,” he begins. “I hope you’re not particularly attached to your underthings.”

I squirm slightly. “Well, they were a gift, sir.”

He stops his slow progression around his desk. “From a man?”

“Yes, a man I like very much,” I murmur, trying my best to sound sexy.

He snorts quietly. _Oh shit_ , is he pissed?

He strides quickly over to me and lifts the skirt of my dress unceremoniously over my ass, revealing the lacy blue panties. He stills. I hold my breath.

Moments pass. I’m starting to get dizzy from holding my breath. He lets out a sigh and I immediately relax.

Sliding a finger under the string of elastic at my hip, he says, “Oh, Miss Steele, we’re going to have to do something about that defiant streak.” He punctuates this by snapping the elastic back to my skin, setting it ablaze. 

“As much as I am touched that you like these,” he says and he rips them with his bare hands, letting them drift into my line of vision on the floor between my ankles.

He continues his slow march around his desk again. “I’m going to spank you, Miss Steele, and I want you to stay completely still.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was going to spank you seven times,” he says, across from me. “But since you went and made me jealous, I’m doubling it.” He’s behind me again, his hands pulling my naked hips into his groin. I moan at the contact. “Hush,” he says gently. “But remember,” he slides a finger over my nub, nearly making my knees buckle. “I want you to count.”

“Yes, sir.” 

I feel a shiver as he moves back and to the left, no longer keeping my naked backside warm. 

It seems like eons pass and then suddenly I feel a crack across both cheeks. _Holy shit! That fucking hurts!_ I scream and it somehow comes out as a vaguely intelligible, “One!” His hand rubs the spot he just struck sensually. I arch my back slightly, making my legs a little straighter, pressing my butt into his hand. And then it’s gone. 

_Smack! Smack!_

Once on each cheek, right in the middle. “Two, three!” I wail.

His hands caress the throbbing spots gently once more.

This time when he removes his hands, I hear metal clinking together lightly before I feel another hard slap, this time on the sensitive spot where my left thigh meets my ass.

“Four!”

He rubs it once more, then repeats the process on the right side.

“Five!”

And then I hear him walking around the desk once more. I realize I’m panting. My ass feels swollen, tender, and I’m so aroused despite myself. I’m scared as all hell, but what girl isn’t the first time? 

When he reaches his chair, directly opposite me, I hear him pull it out and sit down. I let my curiosity get the better of me and take a peek to see what he’s doing. He’s untying his shoes. I watch, mesmerized, as he removes first one then the other, then removes each sock and rolls it up, sticking it inside its shoe. He’s completely engrossed in what he’s doing and it’s not until he’s finished his task that he looks up at me. I immediately drop my head back down, knowing I’ve somehow misbehaved. 

“Tut, tut, Miss Steele. I didn’t say you could move,” he says as he circles around once more. When he gets behind me, I see his naked feet. I don’t know what it is about his bare feet, but I find them incredibly sexy, especially when standing between Kate’s black patent leather high heels.

He wraps his hand around my pony tail and pulls back roughly. He presses his crotch into my ass and leans over my body so his mouth is right next to my ear, holding my thigh still with his free hand. “Miss Steele, I think you just earned yourself one more. And then I’m going to fuck you very hard.” His hand that was on my thigh slides around until it begins to play with my nub once more. I moan but can’t move at all, completely subdued by this man. “I thought I told you to hold your tongue, Miss Steele,” he breathes, and slips two fingers inside of me. It’s a good thing his arm is underneath me to keep me from falling when I lose all the strength in my legs for a moment.

“Oh, Miss Steele, you’re so ready for me,” he says, pumping his fingers in and out of me, agonizingly slow. “I do think you’re enjoying your punishment.”

“Yyyyes, sir,” I stammer.

He releases my hair and stands, letting my head loll forward again. Still working his magic with his fingers, he smacks me hard with his other hand.

“S-s-six!” I scream out.

“Oh, Miss Steele, I’m not sure how much more of this you can take.”

He smacks me hard on the other cheek.

“Seven!”

“I’m not sure how much more I can take, either, Miss Steele.”

He switches hands, now sliding his fingers in and out of me from behind. I can hear him licking the fingers of his unencumbered hand. “Mmm, Miss Steele, you taste divine.”

I moan and buck my hips. _How the hell is he making me feel so depraved and so sexy at the same time?_

He slips a third finger into me and I feel strained, full, almost painfully so. I gasp and try to catch my breath, but I feel a quiver racing through my core.

“I don’t want you to come yet, Miss Steele.”

_And how the hell am I supposed to stop from doing that?_

“No, s-s-sir.”

“Good girl,” he says. _Smack! Smack!_ One on each thigh.

“Eight, nine!”

_Smack, smack, smack!_ He riddles my backside with spanks, distracting me, heightening the sensations. 

“Ten, eleven, t-twelve!”

I hear the metal again and realize he’s unbuckling his belt. I hear his zipper and watch as he steps out of his crumpled trousers.

“We’re almost there, Miss Steele, the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” he says seductively, like it’s an order. An order to do what, I don’t know, but an order nonetheless.

_Smack! Smack!_ These slaps land almost on my hips, painfully. He takes his fingers away and reaches around me to the desk before I hear the rip of foil.

“Thirteen, Fourteen,” I pant.

There’s an interminable pause before the last slap, right between my cheeks, hitting my ripened sex, making every fiber of my being perk up and take notice.

“Fifteen!” I scream as he enters me from behind, grabbing my hips and thrusting violently into me, ripping my virginity to shreds. “Ah!” 

He stops momentarily and I can feel his fingers trembling slightly. 

“Ana?” He has lost all the confidence he had in his voice. He sounds like a small, lost boy, scared and confused.

“Don’t stop,” I whine, urging him to push through the pain. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I want to go there with him so much. “Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t stop.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs, and he resumes his ministrations, though much slower and more tenderly now. He reaches his hand around and teases my core. “Ana, come for me, baby,” he groans, and, like a good sub, I obey.


	2. If At First You Don't Succeed

  **Chapter 2 –––––––––––**

**If At First You Don’t Succeed**

My vision returns to normal very slowly. Christian’s arm is supporting me so I don’t collapse completely to the floor. We’re both panting raggedly and I feel like every inch of my skin is covered in sweat, not all of it mine.

I wince as he pulls out of me, pulling me upright. My ass is sore, my crotch is sore, my thighs are sore. Hell, even my feet are sore. He discards the condom into the waste basket and sits me down on the front of his desk, sopping with fluids of all varieties, probably ruining the beautiful leather top of his desk. I look down at the desk and notice the fingernail marks I left in the leather already. 

I can’t help myself, I start to giggle. At first, I try to cover my mouth and stifle it, hide it, but they just grow and grow until I’m full-on guffawing. He is quite a site to behold. He’s just as sweaty as I am, and though he’s still wearing his dress shirt, he’s completely naked from the waist down. He’s pacing back and forth, running both hands through his hair, muttering to himself. I suppose I don’t look much better, with Kate’s dress hiked up to my waist, her heels dangling barely from my feet, my entire groin exposed and dripping. Who knew sex would be so messy?

He turns on me like a bolt. “What the fuck, Anastasia?” _Oh shit, he’s really pissed_. 

I swallow my laughter with a hiccup. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?!”

“I wasn’t laughing at _that_ ,” I start.

“Not the fucking laughing.” His voice has dropped to a hush. Now it’s really scary. “Why the _fuck_ didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”

I gulp. I had no idea he’d be able to tell. 

He stares at me. I stare back. Seasons change, it seems like we’re silent for so long.

“Well?”

I finally murmur, “It didn’t really come up.”

He goes back to his pacing, running his fingers through his hair. I want to run my fingers through his hair. I feel that warmth down in what I now know to be the deepest part of my vagina.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would matter.”

He stops and looks at me again. “Well, it does fucking matter, Anastasia!” He’s yelling again.

“I didn’t think you would notice.”

He stops. His expression changes to what I think is sadness. No, more than that. Devastation.

“That’s not why it matters.” His voice is soft, consoling. “It matters because that’s not how...” He sighs as he walks over to me slowly, taking my face between both of his hands. He kisses me tenderly on the lips, letting his tongue bump mine before pulling back. He tastes like sweet wine. “That’s not how your first time should have gone.” He kisses me again, sweetly at first, but then growing in fervor as he lifts my knees up with his hands and lets them slide up the underside of each thigh. I lose my shoes to the floor with a thump thump.

I wrap my arms around his neck and I swear he flinches. He lets go of my legs and slowly unclasps my arms from around him. He pulls back to look me in the eyes. Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he leans in and bites my bottom lip. Hard. I moan into his mouth, but never let my eyes close. It seems almost like he’s challenging me with his stare.

I rest my hands on my thighs and wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, pulling him closer. I feel his dick against me and know that he’s ready to go again. I groan again and he releases my lip from between his teeth.

His hands find the zipper in the back of my dress and slowly open it. His fingers graze my spine along the way and my back arches, pushing my chest into his. I feel his dick twitch between my legs.

“Lift up your arms, Anastasia,” he says gently. He peels my dress off above my head and tosses it to the floor. Our eyes meet again and my breath hitches.

I look down momentarily at his shirt, the only thing between us. Without thinking, I raise my hands to unbutton it, but when I look back into his eyes, I remember myself and drop them back to my thighs. I’m not supposed to touch him.

“I’ll do it,” he says. Unhurried, he unbuttons his shirt, pausing to remove his cufflinks before sloughing the shirt to the floor.

He leans his torso into mine, pushing me backwards, and places his cufflinks on the desk behind me.

“Let me make love to you, Anastasia.”

“I thought you didn’t make love, you fucked hard.”

He smiles mischievously at me. “I think I can make an exception this one time.” His fingers skim over my hip bones and up the sides of my stomach. It’s achingly slow and sends an electric current straight to my core. “Please, let me do this the right way.”

I’m putty in his hands. His eyes are pleading. He’s asking permission? His lips hover just beyond mine.  I can feel his hot breath on my face. _Oh good god, I want him so badly._

“Please,” he whispers.

“Yes.”

His lips are on me at once. He takes my hands slowly and wraps them around his neck, then he scoops his hands under me and lifts me off the desk, holding me against him. He’s walking, carrying me wrapped around him like a marsupial and every step and bump rubs against me, strengthening my arousal.

“Where are we going?” I breathe into his ear.

“I won’t make love to you on a desk.”

As we pass through the living room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, I feel incredibly exposed, and I’m surprised to realize that I enjoy that. The idea that someone might see us is intoxicating. I turn my head towards the Seattle skyline and smile lazily. That’s right, World, the incredibly sexy man between my thighs wants to make love to _me_.

He brings me to an enormous room with a beautiful king-sized bed in the center of it. This must be his bedroom. He sets me down on the sheets, kissing me lightly on my forehead, my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, my lips. Oh, my lips. I lay back slowly and he follows, climbing into the bed on top of me. He lifts me slightly and shifts us up further on the bed until my head is resting on soft pillows.

His hands are exploring my body, his touch soft and sure. He runs the back of his index finger up my stomach, along my ribs, and pauses at my breast. He’s never touched them before. He pulls his lips from mine and looks down at my body.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly.

I shiver under his scrutiny. I cast my eyes down and drop my chin. “Thank you, sir.” 

He looks back up at me, almost panicked. He lifts my chin up so I’ll look in his eyes. “Not right now. Don’t call me sir right now.” He kisses me again and then leaves a trail of kisses, nibbles, and bites on his way to my breasts. Once there, he takes a moment to admire them before caressing first one, then the other with his hands. A small cry of pleasure escapes me as my eyes roll back in my head and I arch into his touch. 

“So responsive,” he breathes before burying his face in my left breast. He licks and squeezes and I feel myself building, I hear myself panting. He moves his face to my right breast, biting the soft underside and my hands run through his hair before I can stop myself. To my surprise, he doesn’t flinch or pull away, but groans into my skin. He pinches my nipple which causes my hips to buck. He looks up at me, that same mischievous grin on his face before biting my right nipple, making me buck once more. 

“Please,” I whine. I just want him inside of me once more. I want to feel his pulse inside of me and know I can’t be more full of him.

He’s kissing me again before I can beg anymore. I hear the drawer of the nightstand open and the ripping of foil again before he pulls away momentarily. My breath is labored and I reach for him, but his lips are on mine again before my hands can find him.

I feel his fingers run along my opening and I gasp into his mouth. He smiles and brings his finger to his mouth. “You are so sweet, Anastasia,” he says appreciatively. “Here,” he says as he dips his finger into me again, making me moan. “You try.” Before I know what’s happening, he’s put his wet finger into my wide open mouth. I close my mouth around it in surprise and find the taste to be musky and sweet. I suck on his finger, looking deep in his eyes. I feel like a goddess.

The tip of his penis is pressing against my core and I suck harder. Slowly, he pulls his finger from my mouth and replaces it with his lips. As his tongue parts my lips, he enters me, slowly. There’s a bit of pain, a stretching, a soreness, but it’s so fleeting and is immediately overshadowed by a warmth, a fullness, a need. He presses into me deeper and deeper until I’m sure he’s touching the very end of me. I throw my head back and scream. Ever so slowly, he pulls back until he’s just barely inside of me still. I quiver in that moment and grab his arms, squeezing tightly.

He sets a slow, leisurely pace, making sure he sinks himself into me entirely before pulling back to start the process again. I feel so overwhelmed with sensation, I lose all ability to think. There’s no him, there’s no me, there’s no bed, there’s no time. There’s only this sensation of sheer anticipation.

“Oh, Anastasia, you feel so good.”

He presses his thumb against my clit and circles slowly, picking up the speed of his thrusts barely. I feel myself hurtling towards something, but I can’t tell if the goal is more important or the journey there. Part of me wants to hold back and make this last forever, but I know it’s impossible. 

“Don’t stop,” I groan and he speeds up further, pressing my nub with more determination than before. “Don’t ever stop.” My hands find his ass and pull him into me, squeezing as hard as I can, my body matching his rhythm stroke for stroke.

“Anastasia,” he utters.

And at his exclamation of my name, I feel every muscle in my body contract in a spectacular fireworks display of pleasure.

“Christian!”

His orgasm follows close behind mine, speeding then stilling his frenetic movements.

“Ana,” he sighs before he collapses onto his side, pulling me with him, still inside of me as the aftershocks rock my body.

Our breathing syncs after a few moments. When he pulls out of me and tosses the condom towards the trash can, I open my eyes to find him staring at me. 

“How’d I do?” I ask.

He smiles and kisses me lazily, his eyes half-closed. “You were perfect.” Then he pulls me against his chest and I inhale his scent before falling asleep.


	3. A Short Lesson in Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian teaches Ana the importance of safewords with a couple short demonstrations.

**Chapter 3 –––––––––––**

**A Short Lesson in Limits**

In the morning, I open my eyes and have trouble placing myself. Finally I realize I’m still in Christian Grey’s bed, though I am unfortunately alone. I stretch my arms and legs unthinking and regret it instantly. _Everything_ hurts. My arms, my legs, the backs of my thighs, my breasts, my shoulders, my palms, my back, my ass, and good _god_ do my lady parts hurt!

I groan loudly and still immediately. My nipples, sex, and ass throb now that I’m aware of them, even though I’m trying to distract myself by focusing on food. I can smell bacon and syrup and pancakes and who knows what else cooking. It’s intoxicating, but the prospect of standing is more than a little intimidating. Finally the need to pee crushes my fear of pain and I slide, buck-ass naked out of bed.

Once I’ve relieved myself, I sidle out to the bedroom once more. For some reason, I feel glorious in my bare skin. I’m still incredibly sore, but moving my muscles seems to dull the ache. I stand in front of the full-length mirror and look at myself, really look at myself, for the first time possibly ever. At least the first time naked. That’s for sure.

My skin has a certain glow about it and my breasts have a pinkish hue, perky and bright. I turn to check on my butt, which is more of a hot pink that extends halfway to my knees. A few handprints are clearly visible on the apple of each cheek. Still, my skin looks healthy, tight, and fresh. I cautiously touch the raw skin with my fingers and find it soft, smooth, and magnificently sensitive. I let the flat of my hand rub against my ass, cupping it, lifting it. I’ve never been able to think of myself as an object of sexual desire before, but I want to be able to see myself through the eyes of Christian Grey. 

I’m getting turned on watching myself, I can feel the wetness between my legs. On a whim, I pull my hand back and smack myself, right on the bright pink handprint. I yelp from the delicious sting of it and that’s when I hear him growl.

I turn quickly to see Christian Grey standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but gray flannel pajama pants that hang from his hips. I feel a blush cover all those parts of me that aren’t already pink as he smiles his devilish little smile at me.

“Miss Steele, I was quite enjoying that.”

He saunters over, stopping when he’s close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body. He doesn’t touch me, just stands over me, watching me.

“Were _you_ enjoying that, Miss Steele?”

Speechless, all I can do is stare back, shaking like a leaf under his gaze. Without taking his eyes off mine, he reaches down and runs two fingers over my sex, sliding easily along my opening. I gasp slightly and he surprises me by putting them in my mouth.

“You were, Miss Steele. Tell me, how do you taste?”

I suck on his fingers, savoring in the sweet, earthy flavor again. I’m surprised when I realize I like the taste. “Good, sir.”

“I want you to come out to the kitchen for breakfast. You need to eat.” I smile at him suggestively. “Food. You need to eat _food_ , Miss Steele. There’s plenty of time for that later.”

I frown playfully but then start to gather my dress. He grabs my wrist and pulls it behind my back. 

“I didn’t say you could get dressed.” 

Blushing again, I drop the dress back to the floor. “Yes, Mr. Grey.” 

A smile spreads across his face. He takes my other wrist and pulls it behind my back as well. This makes my back arch, pushing my chest out and my nipples lightly graze his torso. He holds both wrists in one hand then grabs my ass with his other, making me gasp and press my breasts harder against his body.

“You were very bad yesterday, Miss Steele,” he smacks me soundly on the rump. It’s much gentler than yesterday but hurts just as much because the area is so inflamed already. I hold my tongue, though.

“You need to be honest with me. I need to be able to trust you.” He slaps me on the other cheek. 

“Yes, sir, Mr. Grey.”

“You will tell me if you want me to stop, Miss Steele.” 

_Smack!_ This time is harder, painful. I bite my lip.

“Miss Steele?”

_Smack, smack!_ Two slaps in quick succession land on my reddened thighs. This time a small cry escapes my lips.

“Yes, sir.”

_Smack!_ Once very hard on my ass. I see stars for a moment.

“You will safeword when it is too much for you, Miss Steele.”

_Smack!_ My vision blurs slightly.

“Yes, sir.”

I know I’m being tested. But as much as this is hurting and I know I shouldn’t, I am enjoying this. With every smack to my back side, my front is pressing into him. I can feel his erection against me, his abs against my breasts, his breath against my hair. 

He hits me five more times before I finally gasp, “Yellow!”

His fingers slip into me and I stagger on my feet. He releases my arms and turns away, his fingers still inside me. 

“Come along,” he says casually. He takes a step towards the door and _pulls_ me gently to follow him. I can barely move, but somehow manage to put one foot forward in a halting step.

“Christian!” I yell out.

“Miss Steele,” he says patronizingly, though he does stop and turn to me. He starts pumping his fingers in and out as he speaks. “You were a very bad girl yesterday, and you will need to be taught to be honest with me, to communicate.” He rubs my clit with his thumb, nearly making my knees buckle. “You must be punished until you can learn to tell me everything.” He hooks his fingers once more and pulls gently. “Now come along,” he whispers and begins to walk backwards, watching me.

Timidly and carefully I follow him. After a few very slow steps, I lose my footing and fling forward towards him, my hands finding purchase on his upper arms. Once I’m steady, I remember myself and quickly remove my hands from his skin.

“It’s alright. You can hold my arms, Miss Steele. It seems you need the support,” he says.

I place my hands back on his biceps and smile. They are hard under my fingers. He gives me another little tug and we lurch forward once again.

We make it to the living room, and I feel completely exposed. I’m standing totally nude in front of the huge picture windows with Christian Grey’s fingers inside of me. I imagine all of Seattle can see us. I think of José and Ray and Ethan staring, judging me. I imagine Kate’s eyes on my skin, then her going on a tirade about women’s lib and sexual freedoms and gender equality and god knows what else.

“Yellow.” This time I say it quietly, calmly, though I feel anything but.

Immediately, the evil little tug of his fingers is gone and I feel steady again. He looks down at me with concern and, somehow, satisfaction.

"I'm glad. My hope is you'll never have to say 'red'." He smiles gently. "Tell me you're alright."

I nod. "Just an errant thought," I say. Somehow the idea of Kate seeing me with this man makes me... I'm not sure. Uncomfortable? That's not quite right, but it's the closest I can come up with at the moment.

On my tip toes I kiss Christian, letting my naked body lean against the length of his. He holds my face in his hands, but doesn't try to touch me beyond that. Finally, I pull back. "Come on, I'm starved!" I say and practically skip to the kitchen.


	4. Initial Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian and Ana discuss the terms of the contract.

**Chapter 4 –––––––––––**

**Initial Negotiations**

I eat my pancakes self-consciously in the nude on a white leather barstool. I try to avoid his gaze, but Christian openly gawks at me while he methodically eats his egg white omelet. He finishes long before I do, smiling like an idiot as he watches me. I stare at my food then out of desperation grab the newspaper off the counter. 

"Oh, the Mariners won last night," I remark in as casual a tone as I can muster. 

I open the paper up and try to block myself from his view as I take another sip of tea. It's my favorite, Twinings. I'm a bit touched he remembered. 

I gasp and almost choke on the tea. He has slid his hand under the newspaper and around my thigh. I can't see his face, only his hand. It's so surprising, I spread my legs, giving him purchase. He massages my nub with gusto. I can feel myself drawing near the edge, building to a quick release. Should I drop the paper so I can see him? There's definitely something arousing as all get out about the anonymity of it. His hand could be anyone's, as though I could be anywhere, enjoying my breakfast and my newspaper (admittedly in the nude) when this unbidden hand takes me by surprise.

Christian Grey is the stuff fantasies are made of, but I let my mind wander through the possibilities: I’m on a train when the man sitting next to me cops a feel; I’m on my lunch break in the park and someone I’ve never met can’t resist a little touch-and-feel; I’m at home on the couch reading when a mysterious hand reaches around and gives me this... mind-shattering... orgasm... from out. of. nowhere.

The waves of pleasure wrack my body and I nearly fall off my stool.

Now the paper is crumpled into an unreadable mess in my hands. As the tremors subside, I smile and look over at Christian. I expect to see that sexy and snide look of accomplishment and satisfaction, but instead I’m faced with one of sheer amusement. He’s laughing, and I’m pretty sure it’s at me.

“What?” I pant. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You talk when you come, did you know that?”

I blush crimson and drop my head. _Honesty, right?_ That’s what he wants.

“Well, I’ve never done it before last night, so how would I know?”

I sneak a look up at him and his eyes are wide.

“You are full of surprises, Miss Steele. Are you sure you can’t stay another night?”

 _Oh shit!_ “What time is it?” I ask in a panic, slipping off the barstool and taking another bite of pancake before practically running for Christian’s study.

“It’s nearly two o’clock,” he calls, laughing again. What a fantastic sound. I stop and look back at him. He looks his age for once. It really suits him.

“I promised Kate I’d call. She’s gonna be worried sick.”

When I make it to the study, I’m completely stunned. Last night it had looked like a bomb had gone off — a laptop, a half-dozen books, two bookends, a lamp, and every paper on the planet had been dashed across the floor plus the horrendous mess I had made of the desktop between the dripping and the fingernail gouges. Today, everything is restored to its original state as though nothing ever happened. I’m assuming this Mrs. Jones has magical powers à la Mary Poppins.

I find my purse sitting neatly on the desk and fish out my phone. I send Kate a quick text:

 

_*Sorry I didn’t call, I got busy. I’ll tell you all about it tonight at dinner. Beers and hamburgers okay? Love ya!*_

Replacing the phone, I notice the contract sitting in the middle of the desk, still unsigned. I sit and read over it quietly and carefully, refreshing my memory. I don’t remember half the stuff in here from last night, but then, I wasn’t paying very close attention before. I pick it and my purse up and march back to the kitchen.

Our plates have been cleared and Christian is suddenly dressed. Next to him, I feel even more naked, but somehow it’s giving me courage, power.

“We need to talk about this,” I say, slapping the contract on the counter.

“Of course,” he replies, wrapping his hands around my waist. I try to shake him off, but my heart’s not in it. His hands on my skin are distracting but I have to remain on task.

“I need some free time on the weekends. I have a life you know.”

His hands start roaming and his face is buried in my hair. He nods and whines slightly before inhaling deeply. Hopefully I’m having as distracting an effect on him — should make negotiations easier.

“Good. I can see you during the week if that helps.”

He murmurs in agreement as he pulls me closer to him and begins nibbling the length of my neck.

“And the personal trainer. I can do two times a week.”

“You need the stamina, Anastasia,” he says between love bites.

“Okay, I’ll do three. But I won’t do this food thing.”

He stops, pulls his head back, and looks at me. “Anastasia, I’m very insistent that you eat properly.”

“You have to be able to trust me to do that without the rules.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I stop him. “It’s a deal-breaker.”

He lets go of my waist and we face off. After what seems like an eternity, he asks, “Will you at least try to eat three square meals a day?”

I spend a moment considering that. I suppose I already do _try_. “Alright.”

“Fine then.” He pulls me back against his body and runs his lips over my collar bone. “Is that everything?”

“Well, about the clothes and stuff,” I say.

He takes a half-step back. “Seriously, Ana?” Okay, I might have gone too far. He runs a hand through his hair and turns in a small circle. “If you’re going to be my sub, I want to be able to give you nice things. I want to be able to exert a little authority over you, and I want you to want me to do it.”

I think back to last night. His punishment was sort of amazing. I wonder if some of these rules are just there so I can break them.

“I’m just not comfortable with you spending your money on me like that. It makes me feel,” I mumble. “I don’t know, cheap.”

He stops. His voice is calmer, gentler, soothing. “You are _not_ a whore, Ana.”

“What is the difference between that and a sub?”

Clearly he’s never really thought about this before. It takes him a minute before he can respond.

“You’re not doing this because of the things I can give you. You’re doing this because you want to. Don’t you want to?” And I hear that little lost boy again. 

“Of course I want to, but this is just so much so fast. I mean, I’ve never done this stuff before. I don’t know how it’s supposed to go, what’s normal and what isn’t.”

He smiles slightly. “What’s normal isn’t important. What you like is what matters.”

I smile back. “Well, I like this, and I like you. Why do we need to complicate it? Why do we need all these labels and rules and contracts and everything?”

He wraps his arms around me once more. “The labels don’t really matter, but the rules are there for me. I like knowing you’re mine and that you’re safe and healthy and well cared for.” He kisses me softly and I feel such emotion in it. “Besides, I’m going to take you to events and such. You need better clothes and I want you to be dressed appropriately. You can’t afford the kinds of clothes I want you dressed in. And I _want_ to spend the money on you.”

I let that sink in. Finally I relent. “Okay, but I don’t have to wear what you tell me to when I’m not here. My time is my own.”

He nods to this.

“Now, I have to get home to make dinner for Kate. I should get dressed.” I turn in his arms and try to get free, but he pulls me against him, my back to his front. I feel his arousal pressing against my tender ass and I moan slightly.

“You are a shrewd negotiator, Miss Steele. Are you sure you don’t want to come work for me?”

I giggle. “No, thank you, sir. If you paid me, I would _really_ start to feel like a whore.” I reach behind me and squeeze his penis firmly, surprising him. His grip around me breaks and I walk away with a wink over my shoulder.

“What about the rest of it, Anastasia?”

I stop and turn, a safe ten feet from his reach. “Can I have a little while to think about it? I need some time to process,” I say.

He grumbles low in his chest and, of course, it’s sexy as all hell. I come very close to giving in right there and signing the paperwork as-is. “Alright, Miss Steele. I’ll have the contract redrafted and email it to you in the next day or so. We can discuss further Wednesday over dinner. Are you free?”

“I am free, Mr. Grey. Dinner sounds lovely.” I turn and walk slowly back to the bedroom. When I’m almost out of the room and he hasn’t moved a muscle I call over my shoulder, “Now, are you going to fuck me again before I get dressed or what?”

I don’t even make it to the doorway and he’s scooped me up and thrown me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, making me yelp. “You are insatiable, Miss Steele,” he says and slaps me soundly on the ass as we enter the bedroom.

He throws me down on the bed. “Sit on the edge of the bed.” His entire demeanor has changed. He’s all business, smoldering and commanding.

I scooch to the foot of the bed, letting my feet touch the floor and look up at him expectantly. He’s right in front of me and looking absolutely edible.

“I want you to tell me your experience.”

I’m thrown for a bit of a loop by this. I stammer for a moment but he doesn’t lose patience.“My experience?”

“Your sexual history.”

“But,” I say. “But you know I don’t have any. You’re my first.”

“Yes, but surely,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “You must have had _some_ experience. Kissing, oral sex, fondling, dry humping... Some women enjoy anal sex but remain virgins.”

I can feel the blood rushing to my face. 

He kneels down in front of me, his hands on my knees. “It’s okay, Ana. There’s no need to be embarrassed. You need to tell me so I know how far I can push you.”

“I’ve kissed boys before,” I volunteer.

He nods, waiting for more. But there’s no more. Bradley tried to get a little handsy in 10th grade, but my mom walked in, putting the kibosh on that situation very quickly.

When it becomes clear that there’s nothing to expand upon, Christian’s placid stare falters slightly. “Oh Jesus,” he mutters. “And what I did to you last night...”

“I enjoyed it. Don’t overthink this.”

He puts his hands on my ass and pulls me toward him, my legs parting for him so I’m essentially straddling him.

“Undo my belt.”

I reach down and fumble with the buckle. “Look at my face, Ana.”

I look up and he kisses me slowly, letting his tongue explore mine. I feel myself both tense and relax at his touch. I manage his belt finally and toss it to the floor.

“Good. Now my pants.” I watch his mouth as he talks, imagining it against my skin. I unbutton and unzip his pants, letting them hang from his hips. He stands and my eyes float down his body. He’s barefoot, so when I slide his pants off him, he steps out of them easily, springing free. He must not have been wearing any underwear. 

This is the first time I’m really getting a good view of it and even though it’s a bit scary, I’m entirely intrigued by his penis. It’s right in front of my face and without really thinking about it, I lean forward and kiss the tip lightly. 

I hear Christian inhale sharply and his body jerks in reaction. I take more of him in my mouth. He’s salty and though he’s definitely hard, the skin is much softer and smoother than I imagined, like moss on a rock. I hum in enjoyment when I take him further into my mouth, stretching my jaw wider than it’s used to. He grabs two handfuls of my hair at this and grunts. 

“Ana,” he moans.

I suck hard and pull my head back, running my tongue over the head. Another grunt and I take him slowly into my mouth, surer of myself. With each draught on him, I take a little more in my mouth, pushing further in. 

When I feel him pressing against the back of my throat, he squeezes my head slightly. I hum in response and he nearly screams, grabbing my head forcefully.

“Ana, I’m going to come. If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you should stop now.”

Something comes over me and as I bob my head along his length, sucking as hard as I can, I lift my hand to lightly cup his balls, then lift my eyes to meet his. He does scream this time and holds my head against him as I feel a spunky hot liquid stream down my throat, his dick spasming in my mouth.

Finally, he releases me and leans down to kiss me. I’m self-conscious of my breath, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“Jesus, Ana, don’t you have a gag reflex?” he grunts.


	5. Briefly...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana comes home to spend some time with Kate.

**Chapter 5 –––––––––––**

**Briefly...**

Around five, we pull up outside my apartment — well, Kate’s apartment. I live here nearly rent-free, so I really shouldn’t be calling it mine. I’m like a house guest who pays for the utilities.

For a walk of shame, I don’t feel that embarrassed. In fact, I feel pretty freaking great. My backside is not smarting as much since Christian rubbed on that fantastic lotion or cream or whatever the hell it was. Christian is walking me to my door for god’s sake, and now it feels like I’ve been on a real date. Sure, a date where I signed a contract not to speak about the nature of our relationship to anyone, lost my virginity, and got smacked around five ways to Sunday, but a date nonetheless.

We make it to the apartment door and I shift my weight from foot to foot awkwardly. I guess I’m expecting him to kiss me, but time is passing and no kiss is coming. Christian is staring down at me intently, but it’s like he’s trying to analyze me, not woo me. If I’m being honest, I suppose he’s already won me, so there’s no need to pursue me. There’s pain behind his eyes. I am wasting our time standing here.

“Well, I’ll see you Wednesday,” I mutter finally, and reach for the doorknob. He reaches out and touches my arm gently, sweetly. He’s touched me everywhere at this point, in a thousand different ways, but this one is new. I turn and he takes my face in his hands, staring deeply into my eyes.

“You want me to kiss you good night,” he says matter-of-factly. When I don’t respond, his countenance changes, he becomes authoritative in that familiar way. This is Christian, the Dom.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not the hearts and flowers kind of guy, Miss Steele. I’ve told you that.”

“I know, sir.” 

He gently leans in and brushes his lips against mine, taking my breath away for a moment. Like _hell_ he’s not a hearts and flowers kind of guy. When I regain my composure, I bite my lip.

And then he’s on me, filling my mouth with his, his hands roaming over my body until he takes my bottom lip in his teeth and bites down hard, squeezing my breast as he does so. It’s awful and wonderful and completely overwhelming.

He stands up straight after a moment. I’m practically gasping for breath but he looks so composed, smoothing the strand of hair that fell from my ponytail. The salty taste of blood lingers in my mouth. I tongue my lip and find a tiny cut on the inside of it. Somehow it feels erotic, tasting my own blood.

“I am sorry about that, but I have told you repeatedly not to bite your lip,” he says softly.

Just then, the door swings open and Elliot and Kate appear, as if one writhing body with four arms and four legs grasping at itself desperately. It’s a bit difficult to decide where one ends and the other begins. I feel a strong pang of jealousy.

Christian clears his throat after a moment or two and they begrudgingly break apart.

“You ready?” Christian asks his brother.

“Sure thing,” comes the reply, though Elliot’s eyes never leave Kate’s. He kisses her again, with tongue, then marches between me and Christian, calling over his shoulder to Kate, “Laters, baby.”

I give Kate and incredulous look then turn to Christian. He leans in to give me a chaste peck on the cheek, whispering, “Laters, baby,” in my ear. I laugh at the entirely un-Christian phrase and see his smile. He looks his age again for a split second. I want to see it again. He starts to walk away and I grab my cell phone and text him as quickly as my thumbs will fly. 

_*I’m wearing your underwear, Mr. Grey, I hope that’s acceptable.*_

His phone beeps a moment later and he fishes it out while climbing into the Audi. His eyes flash up to mine immediately in shock and I shoot him a coy smile before closing the door to the apartment. _Mission accomplished_.

Kate hands me a cold beer and laughs. I’m leaning against the door with a stupid grin on my face.

“You did it, didn’t you?” she blurts after a moment.

A blush is surely creeping over not just my face, but my entire body, so I take a long swig of my beer. First Christian can tell I’m a virgin, now Kate can tell I’m not?

“Well, was he any good? How was it? I want to know everything.”

Kate takes my hand and leads me to the couch.

I take another long pull on my beer then lick a drop from the neck and flush again. My mind is racing back to Christian Grey’s cock in my mouth, licking him clean, the feel of him against the back of my throat.

“It was good.” That’s all I can manage to get out.

“Just good?” Kate is incredulous.

I consider my words before speaking. Normally I don’t censor myself at all with Kate. We speak freely and candidly together, but I signed a non-disclosure agreement, and although I doubt he would sue me, the threat of my time with Christian Grey ending is enough to make me cautious about how much I reveal. 

“It was really good, Kate, but I don’t...” I hesitate.

“Don’t hold out on me now, Steele!” 

“It just... It wasn’t what I expected.” If I talk about me, it’s not breaking the contract, right?

“How so?”

That’s a tricky question. My first time was _definitely_ not how I expected it to be. It was glorious and amazing and so freaking hot, but I’d always expected it to be soft and tender and slow and filled with love. I had imagined there would be candles and music and open-mouthed kissing, and I sure as shit planned on being naked. 

On the other hand, Christian Grey was not how I expected him to be, either. I had done my internet research. This was clearly just the introductory stuff, the training, the soft-core if you will. The way he had warned me against being with him, I had pictured whips and chains and ball gags and fucking while someone else watched us. I imagined being bound and trussed and tied seven ways to Sunday and I guess I had given up entirely on the idea of how my first time should be before he picked me up yesterday. That said, our second time had been so very much closer to my original expectations of how my first time would go that I was left a little confused.

“The biggest surprise was how much I enjoyed it, I guess.” 

Lord, that was the truth. I didn’t think I’d actually enjoy being spanked that hard. Sure, I’d be intrigued by the thought of it, but who isn’t? That didn’t mean I was going to like it. I thought it was something you bore through to get to the good part. 

And then, once he’d fucked me so hard, I spent a total of about five minutes (there wasn’t a lot of lag time between sessions) believing I couldn’t enjoy anything but rough sex for the rest of my life. Christian fucked me then made love to me — and that is undoubtedly what he did — and they were so much the same and so different at the same time. Now I can’t imagine existing without both sides of that coin. I know that I _need_ to be used and treated roughly. I also know that I _need_ to be treated like a goddess. I can’t see a realistic way I can consistently have both, though, so a sadness rolls over me momentarily.

But looking at Kate’s ridiculous expression of excitement, anticipation, and arousal breaks me from my melancholy. 

“Did you come?”

I should just resign myself to the fact that my face will be bright red for the duration of this conversation. 

“Yes.”

Her eyes widen. “More than once?”

I nod.

Her face is colored with glee, or is it envy? “How many times, Ana?”

I count in my head briefly and take a sip of beer. I try to avoid looking at Kate as I finally say, “Four.” My reward for the blow job was a nice bit of shower sex. My thoughts wander back to the handheld showerhead. Oh, the things Christian was able to do with it...

Kate sputters and nearly spits out her mouthful of beer, bringing me back to reality. “Four?! It’s only been,” she looks at her watch. “Hell, Ana, it’s only been 24 hours. Don’t you sleep?”

I look at her, mystified. I’m pretty sure I got eight hours. “Is that not normal?”

“Hell, most guys can’t get it up four times much less make a woman come that much, that often. Especially a virgin.” She stares at me for a moment, blinking. “I’m impressed.”

I feel the need to deflect. I’m revealing too much about Christian. This could really jeopardize our... Relationship? Situation. Could jeopardize our _situation_. 

“Well, he did say I am very ‘receptive’.”

This is apparently hilarious because Kate spends the next two or three minutes guffawing.

“Is that so?” she says, hiccuping. “I’m still fairly convinced you’re dating a sex god.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

She laughs and pushes my arm, shoving me slightly. However, thanks to my lack of coordination, I fall off the couch, spilling the remainder of my beer all over Kate’s dress that I’m wearing.

“Shit!” I set the bottle down on the coffee table and dab at the massive wet blotch with my bare hands.

“Here, take that off, I’ll run it through the wash right now. Don’t worry.”

I stand up and turn so Kate can unzip me. The feel of her fingers against my skin sends a tingle down my spine and I’m reminded of Christian’s touch. I then peel the cranberry dress from my body and hand it to Kate, who is staring, open-mouthed at my crotch.

 _Fuck, I’m wearing Christian’s boxer briefs!_  

“Are those his?” I nod and Kate takes the dress absent-mindedly. She turns to head toward our washing machine closet by the bathroom. “That’s fucking hot, Ana.”

That deep, dark feeling, that feeling of unstoppable momentum swirls in my groin, nearly knocking me on my feet. The moisture between my thighs tells me her compliment excited me, but not _why_. Is it confirmation that I’m hot, or Christian is, or his underwear is, or our sex life is... Or is it something about _Kate_ saying it.

I shake the thought from my head and make my way to my room to change into some pjs. And of course, by ‘pjs’ I mean a tank top and Christian’s boxer briefs.


	6. Upkeep

**Chapter 6 –––––––––––**

**Upkeep**

After we’ve finished our burgers, two more beers each, and are tucking into a shared pint of mint cookie ice cream, I feel myself coming down off my Christian Grey high. I’ve successfully managed to steer the conversation away from my newfound sex life and onto _any other topic_. First it’s graduation then it’s moving then it’s on to Kate’s new internship at the newspaper, then we talk about Kate and Ethan’s family trip. 

Anything to avoid Christian Grey. Anything to clear my head. Part of me wants to think about him, but the rational side knows I need to get him off my brain in order to think logically about whether I’m ready for this.

Signing the contract is a big commitment. Most of it seems fine to me — I can eat three times a day, I can remember the safe words, I can work out. Hell, I think I _need_ to so I can keep up with him! I can even try to get eight hours of sleep a night. The things I really only hesitate on a few items: that I can’t masturbate (though I’ve never done it before, why should I care); not being able to look him in the eyes (looking into them is so erotic, I just don’t want to not be allowed to); and not being able to touch him (just because I _want_ to touch him). Everything else seems if not reasonable than at least doable. I’ll try anything once I figure and if something isn’t working, hopefully we can discuss it.

An item from the contract pops into my head an I interrupt Kate while she’s talking about the spa treatments she’s considering on her trip. 

“Have you ever been waxed?”

She just blinks back at me for a few moments, her mouth hanging open.

I clear my throat slightly. “You know, down there?”

“Why... Why do you ask, Ana?”

I shovel more Ben & Jerry’s in my mouth, talking around the spoon. “You know, Christian might have mentioned he’d like that.” See, I didn’t say he _did_ say it, just that he _might_ have said it. 

“To be completely honest, Ana, it hurts like holy hell.”

I blanch. I knew it would hurt, but Kate has to be one of the toughest people I know. She would not admit to it hurting that much unless it was really bad.

“But it _does_ make me more sensitive, so that’s a plus.” She smiles coyly at me.

My breath hitches trying to imagine being any more sensitive than I already am. I’m hyper-aware of Christian’s underwear touching me every time I move. If I was any more sensitive, I’d be moaning and writhing right here on the couch. I blush at the thought of Kate seeing me like that.

“I recommend getting your legs, armpits, and bikini area done before going the whole hog. It’s a big commitment to lose it all.”

The upkeep for having sex seems far more involved than I’d anticipated. The underwear, the prophylactics, the hair removal... I had no idea. The only saving grace I suppose is that Christian’s paying for all these incidentals. I’m not sure my bank account could handle that plus the suit I need to buy for interviews next week.

“How much does that all cost?”

“Well, we could go to a salon, it’d be...” Kate does some additions in her head I guess, then continues, “about $100 at a cheap-ish place. But we could do it with an at-home wax kit for $12.”

I hiccup. “Would you do that for me?”

Her face takes on an expression I can’t quite read. 

“Sure, I have a kit in the bathroom under the sink, why don’t you go get it.” I hesitate. “We should do this now while you’re good and tipsy, before you lose your nerve.”

Begrudgingly, I make my way to the bathroom and look under the sink. Lo and behold, behind the tampons and next to the toilet cleaner is an at-home wax kit. I bring it back to Kate, who tells me to get a couple towels to cover the couch. I do as she orders and when I come back I hear the microwave beep.

“It’s ready, Ana. Now just lie down and give me a leg.” I do as I’m told, practically shaking from frightful anticipation. “The wax is hot, so don’t be surprised.”

“Hold on!” I grab a pillow and cover my face. I screech a muffled, “Okay!” from my hiding spot.

She’s right, the wax is hot, but it’s not nearly as painful as I’d anticipated. Kate drips it onto my shin then spreads it up and down slowly. I can’t see what she’s doing, which is probably for the best. After a few minutes, it becomes this calming, soothing warmth covering my whole lower leg. Then Kate begins the other leg. To be honest, as my mind wanders and my body relaxes, it’s turning me on a little. I remember Christian’s anonymous hand on my thigh at breakfast, the fantasy I had of being on the couch just like this.

Kate’s voice snaps me out of my daydream. “Do you want me to do your thigh, too?” I don’t really know how I should answer. “I recommend it,” she says, so I nod my head.

Soon, her hand is steadying my leg as she pulls the wax smoothly along my thigh and I can feel my breathing becoming ragged. I remind myself that this is Kate, my best friend, my roommate, and a girl, but part of me is blocking out anything other than pure sensation. I feel my skin tighten and my back arch just slightly.

“Enjoying yourself, hm?” she purrs.

I let out a contented moan in response. 

_What in god’s name is going on? Is this really happening?_

Next, she lifts the legs of the boxer briefs until her fingers nearly graze my still-sore core. I inhale sharply and press the pillow firmly against my face. She applies the hot wax around the newly-exposed areas, filling me with an urgent need for her to move her fingers just slightly closer.

“Alright, are you ready, Miss Steele?”

My insides tighten when Kate calls me by Christian’s pet name for me. How am I seriously this turned on right now?

I can only nod, and when I do, I can feel Kate pressing something into my tender inner thigh. I’m panting. I want a release — any release will do.

And then she rips a strip of my very soul from my body. It hurts. _Oh Jesus_ , it hurts. But my mind races back to my first time with Christian. To the spanking. To the delicious pain of it. To the sensual teasing. And like that, I’m building again. The backs of my thighs are still so tender from last night, and when Kate makes it to those spots, lifting my leg so she my knee sits on her shoulder, I’m panting once more. I’m grateful for the pillow acting as a muffler as I moan gently into it.

Finally, she finishes, saying, “All done!” cheerily and grabbing my precious pillow. “So?”

My cheeks are flushed and I must look a sight.

“Was it that bad? You look like you’ve just run a marathon, Ana.”

She has no idea that I’m red because my libido is in overdrive. 

God damn Christian Grey and his no masturbating rule!

“It wasn’t that bad, Kate,” I huff. A look of pity still covers her face. She must not believe me. “I think I’m ready to do the whole thing, Kate.”

She laughs. “Really? You are one tough mother, Miss Steele. But that’s probably not a good idea tonight.”

I’m crestfallen. I was hoping somewhere deep inside that I’d get the orgasm I so desperately wanted from it.

“Not after Christian Grey has banged you into submission for the first time.”

_Oh, Kate. You have no idea._

“Besides, we’re out of wax. We can get more later in the week and do your underarms. Then you can decide if you want to go the full Brazilian or not.”

The idea is definitely appealing but she’s right. I shouldn’t make a rash decision on this either.

I start to stand up to get another beer when Kate puts her hand between my breasts, pressing my chest back into the couch. I nearly shriek.

“Just a minute. You’re not done yet. Let me get the lotion.” 

I watch her ponytail bob around the corner and shiver. I take a steadying breath before she comes bounding back, landing between my legs and spreading my knees gently. She rubs lotion between her hands and starts first on my right thigh, working the lotion in deeply, massaging my sore muscles.

“I figure you’re probably sore, right? How hard did he ride you, Ana?”

I close my eyes and hold my breath. Yes, I’m incredibly sore. This is more painful than the waxing, but also more satisfying. I groan.

“Hm, that bad, huh? Well, let me tell you something, if he’s anything like his brother, he has got some skills.” My eyes fly open and I watch Kate talk as she rubs me, moving her hands easily over my skin.

“I must have come three times last night. The man is a powerhouse. He did things I’ve never done before.” She pauses and looks at me. “And I’ve done a _lot_ before.” Her eyes drop back down to my thighs. “He does this thing with his fingertips... Like this.” 

She skims the flesh between my butt and my thigh with the very ends of her fingers. Completely involuntarily, my hips buck. She laughs.

“See? And he did _this_ while he was going down on me.”

This time she lifts my shirt slightly and runs her fingers just below my belly button, but stops half-way. 

“I can’t do it from here, hold on. He was like this.” She scoots down until her head is between my legs. I nearly squeeze her head with my thighs but manage to restrain myself. Then, wrapping her arms around each leg, she tries the maneuver again, letting her fingers skate along my lower torso. She looks up and we lock eyes. I can barely control myself anymore. This is ridiculous. Were her eyes always so green? I can feel her hot breath against Christian’s underwear, inches away from my clit.

Her voice is soft and sexy. “It’s good, right?”

_Holy shit!_ Is she coming on to me? As much as I was surprised at being turned on by Kate, I’m fucking floored that I could turn her on! That she would possibly act on it. _Would_ she act on it?

I nod my head slowly, holding her gaze.

“Kate, are you...” 

But I never finish my question because my phone rings. She sits up slowly and reaches for it, sitting on the coffee table. On the third ring, she looks up from the screen at me, answering the phone.

“Hello, this is Anastasia Steele’s phone. May I ask who’s calling?” She has a wicked little smile on her face. “Just one moment, Mr. Grey.” 

Oh, I can only imagine what his reaction to that will be.


	7. Long and Awaited

**Chapter 7 –––––––––––**

**Long and Awaited**

Reluctantly, I take the phone from her and hold it to my ear. She shoots me a mischievous look.

“Hello, Mr. Grey,” I murmur into the phone.

“Miss Steele,” his buttery voice begins. “Was that Miss Kavanagh?”

“Yes it was,” I say, smiling back at my roommate before turning from her and standing up.

“Is she still there?”

“Yes she is, Mr. Grey.”

“Well, in that case, please call me Christian.” 

Kate walks up behind me and with her warm, slick hands begins kneading my sore legs once again. I let out a surprised little squeak.

“Anastasia?”

I smack Kate playfully on the arm.

“Sorry, yes, of course, Chrisitan.” It really is a pleasure to say his name. 

Kate’s hands are still working my muscles slowly, so I turn to face her, an incredulous look on my face. I mouth “quit it” but she just grins back at me, now massaging the backs of my thighs, pulling me into her body slightly. It’s infuriating.

“So, Christian,” I manage to sound pleasant and light thankfully. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”

“I just wanted to check in and make sure you were feeling alright.”

Kate’s fingers are creeping up my thighs towards that crease at the bottom of my butt she’d been playing with earlier. She giggles lightly. _Dammit_.

“I’m alright.”

I try to wiggle out of her grip, but she is definitely a bit taller and a bit stronger than I am, so it’s no use.

“You’re not too sore?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

Kate starts running her finger tips along that sensitive spot slowly, like she’d done before, and a soft moan escapes my lips.

“Anastasia?”

“Sorry, no, I’m not. It’s okay.”

“Are you alright? Is something the matter. You don’t sound quite yourself.”

My hips buck slightly into Kate’s and she lets out a soft peal of laughter. It gives me goosebumps on my arms.

“Yes, it’s... It’s just Kate.” I look straight into her eyes, which are half-moons from her gigantic smile. She’s really enjoying this. 

“Okay, well, don’t let her tease you too much.”

_You have no idea, Christian Grey_. “I’ll try not to let her.”

And just like that, Kate winks at me, leans in, and kisses me straight on the mouth before giving me a sharp smack on my already abused ass and walking away.

“To be honest, Miss Steele,” I hear Christian in a small, far-away kind of voice say. “I called for another reason. Can you make an excuse and slip away to your bedroom?”

I stand there, open-mouthed for a moment before I come back to my senses. “Absolutely. Just a moment please.”

I hold my hand over the receiver before pointing at her, whisper-yelling, “I’ll deal with you later,” and running my finger across my throat. I march off to my room, leaving her cleaning up the food, beer, wax, and lotion.

After I’ve firmly closed the door and turned on a little music so I won’t be overheard by my overly curious, privacy-defying, incredibly sexy roommate, I sit down on my bed. 

“Alright, Mr. Grey, how can I help you?”

I can practically hear him smile. “Good. Very good, Miss Steele.” I’ll admit, I’m so proud of myself that I’ve pleased him. “Now I’d like you to tell me what you are wearing at the moment.”

I know it’s a little cliché, but he’s so clinical in the question, that I just answer instead of trying to be cute.

“Uh, a pink tank top and,” I hesitate slightly. “And, um, your boxer briefs, sir.”

“Good. You’re not wearing any socks, no bra?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. And where are you right now?”

“On my bed.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Sir.”

_Shit._ “On my bed, _sir_.”

“Miss Steele, you know you must be punished for every infraction. If I don’t punish you, how can you learn?”

I feel my whole body tense up.

“But right now, I’d like you to remove your tank top.”

I hesitate.

“Mr. Grey?”

“Yes, Miss Steele?”

_You can’t see me, can you?_ That’s what I want to say. But I can’t make myself say it. Part of me doesn’t want to know. I wouldn’t put it past Christian Grey.

“Hold on a moment, please.”

I set the phone down on the quilt and take my tank top off, tossing it on the floor, then pick the phone back up.

“Now, Miss Steele,” he says in a very disapproving tone. “Did you just throw your clothes on the floor?”

I blush. _He can see me!_  

“Yes, sir.”

“Pick up your shirt and fold it.”

“Just a moment, sir.” I set the phone down again. I fold the shirt and put it away. “Okay, I’m done, sir.”

“Good. It’s important to keep things tidy, Miss Steele. Now, lay back on your bed.”

I do as I’m told.

“We’re going to need to get you a hands-free device I think, but we have to work with what we have tonight. Which hand are you holding the phone with?”

“My left, sir.”

“Good. With your right hand, run your fingertips slowly along the side of your body.”

I blush again. I’m still feeling flustered from my evening with Kate. This is almost too much for me to bear. 

“I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to,” I blush further if it’s possible. “To _masturbate_ ,” I whisper.

“You haven’t signed the contract yet,” he says matter-of-factly. “Now, start at your hip.”

I touch the pads of three fingers to my skin at my hipbone and move slowly up my body. 

“Close your eyes and begin.”

I close my eyes and the sensation becomes more sexual suddenly, more sensual. My fingers slide over my ribs and I nearly purr.

“Now, once you reach your breast, lightly skim your fingers along the side of it.”

I let out a soft sigh.

“Miss Steele, you’re going to want to be more descriptive than that.”

My eyes pop open when I realize what he’s asking me to do. I look around the room to see if Kate is watching me, which of course, she isn’t. I close my eyes once more.

“Mr. Grey, I wish you were here to do this.”

“God, me too,” I hear him murmur quietly. “Run your fingers in a spiral over your breast,” and like that, he’s back to his equally sexy business mode. “When you reach the nipple, you’ll squeeze it. Hard.”

I do as I’m told and shudder when I reach my nipple. “Oh, it hurts, Mr. Grey,” I moan into the phone.

“You remember your safeword, Miss Steele?”

I nod into the phone, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Run the flat of your palm down your stomach,” he says.

It’s such a different sensation than the cool grazing of my fingertips that it almost surprises me. 

“Oh Jesus,” I pant.

“When you reach my underwear, I want you to go _over_ the fabric with the flat of your palm gently.”

“I’m so close, sir.” And I am. I am so very close. Hell, I was close when the phone rang.

“Good. Stop.”

“But Christian,” I whine. There’s silence. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grey.” 

“No, you’re not. But you will be.”

_Oh good God, save me from this man._  

“You won’t touch yourself tonight. You’ll sleep without a shirt, in my underwear, and you’ll send me a text message when you wake up.”

I can hear the glee in his voice. He’s enjoying the hell out of this.

_“_ Sweet dreams, Miss Steele.”

“Good night, Mr. Grey.”


	8. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana gets all hot and bothered with Christian AND Kate for the first time.

**Chapter 8 –––––––––––**

**Morning**

Christian has tied me, to the chair in the corner of my bedroom. It’s an old, plain, wooden thing, and the solidity of the seat is made all the harder by how tightly I’m trussed to it. I’m only wearing his underwear still, and the rope he used to tie me up rubs harshly against my torso.

He’s been pacing around my room for God knows how long with a determined look on his face. I’ve disappointed him. Again.

“Miss Steele, you did _not_ follow my instructions.” His voice is low and I feel it rumble in my chest. I feel it rumble in my ass, too. “I specifically told you —”

“I know, sir!” My plea is desperate. I’m so ashamed and, quite honestly, disappointed in myself, which I didn’t expect.

Clearly my plea was a little too desperate, a little too loud. I can hear Kate stirring in the next room.

“I specifically told you, Miss Steele,” he eyes me angrily. “ _Not_ to interrupt me.” He reaches into his inside jacket pocket and produces a small pair of scissors.

_Holy crap, what the hell is he going to do with those?!_

I start to panic and begin pulling against the rope, but there’s no chance of getting free. Christian clearly is very skilled at knot tying.

He comes towards me.

“I have to punish you, Miss Steele. For your insolence.”

He leans over and my breath is ragged. I’m ready to scream, to safeword, whatever I need to do.

He looks down and a sadness passes over his face.

“And I was so enjoying looking at you in these.”

He deftly cuts up each leg of the boxer briefs and pulls them out from under me. I’m now completely naked. I can feel the wood from the seat against my sex and nearly groan.

He stands up swiftly and lifts the tattered remains of his underwear up to his face. He takes a deep breath in then discards them in the corner. 

“Oh, Miss Steele, you smell divine.”

I feel every inch of my skin blushing. I know he can see it. He takes a long moment, letting his eyes run over my body.

“As I was saying,” he finally says. “I specifically told you, Miss Steele, _not_ to let Miss Kavanagh tease you too much.” _What?_ “But you didn’t listen, did you?”

I stare at him, open-mouthed. _What_ is he talking about? How does he know what happened last night?

“Answer me!” he shouts.

And, that’s it. There’s a bang on the door. _Kate_.

“What the hell is going on in there, Christian?” I hear her almost yell through the door. 

He eyes me and lifts his eyebrows in a _See? Look what you did_ sort of expression. My mouth is still hanging open.

“Answer me,” he says gently this time.

“Are you alright in there?” Kate says loudly from the other side of the door.

“If you won’t answer me, Miss Steele, I will gag you and then you don’t get the privilege of speaking anymore.”

I move my lips but the only sound is Kate’s fist against the door, her jiggling the doorknob.

He sighs and produces a beautiful blue patterned knecktie from his jacket pocket – _What doesn’t he keep in there?_ – and proceeds to gag me, tying it behind my head.

“You look beautiful,” he says. “Now we must think of a suitable punishment for your misbehavior, don’t we?”

“Let me in!” Kate is almost screaming now.

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. _Oh shit._

“Shall I?”

I shake my head furiously, but his hand is already on the knob.

I scream into my gag, but all that comes out is a muffled murmur. 

“I’m so glad you agree, Miss Steele,” he says and he opens the door wide, grinning like a loon.

Kate stands in the doorway wearing her oversized “30 Seconds to Mars” t-shirt she sleeps in. I know she has a pair of panties on, but her legs are completely bare. Her mile-long legs.

Her eyes dart from Christian to me to Christian to me, shock written all over her face.

“What the hell is going on, Christian?”

“We’re having a little party, Miss Kavanagh. Would you like to join us?”

I expect Kate to run over to me and untie me. I expect Kate to punch Christian Grey smack dab in the middle of his nose. I expect her to scream and call the police.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

Nope.

That’s right, Kate — _my_ Kate — begins to laugh.

She laughs and giggles and points at me and doubles over.

I feel so completely vulnerable, so bare, so exposed I wish I could crawl into a hole somewhere and die.

But then Kate does something even more surprising. Still giggling, she walks slowly over to me, bends over, puts both hands on my thighs, and whispers in my ear, “You look great, Miss Steele.”

I feel every muscle in my body tighten. I know my eyes are close to popping out of my head.

She stands back up slowly and I stare at her.

She _was_ coming on to me. How have I never realized it before?

Christian walks up behind her, looking at me over Kate’s shoulder.

“Very nice craftsmanship, Mr. Grey. She looks delectable,” she says.

“Why thank you, Miss Kavanagh,” he says. I watch in awe as he lets his fingertips run up her right thigh, lifting the hem of her t-shirt. A surge of jealousy runs through me, but something else, too. Lust?

“Well, what do you say,” he mutters as he lowers his head to that beautiful space between her neck and her shoulder, kissing it gently. Her head rolls away from his, giving him purchase. His hand on her thigh starts tugging lightly at her panties — a blue lace pair we bought together last week — and his other hand pulls her chin further out of the way. He nibbles along her neck and I hear her moan. I’m so turned on that my chair is getting slippery. “Would you like to join our little party?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Grey,” she says in a breathy grumble.

I watch, which is all I can do, as Kate runs her hand behind her and unzips Christians jeans, taking him in her skilled hand and running up and down his length. They kiss passionately and Christian’s eyes meet mine. 

I can’t touch them. 

They won’t touch me.

Kate breaks their kiss and lets go of Christian. She steps forward a couple inches closer to me and takes off her t-shirt in one fell swoop.

Her breasts are perfect. And they’re at eye-level.

She has a thoughtful look on her face. She takes a couple steps forward and sits on my lap, so I can feel her panties against my thighs, I can feel her breasts just inches from me. Oh hell, I wish I could move.

Christian is somehow naked. I’m not really sure when that happened, but it is so distracting. _Distracting me from what? Kate’s breasts?_

Then he walks up behind Kate and without bending over at all, rests his hands on her breasts, massaging them. 

“You have beautiful breasts, Miss Kavanagh,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. I can’t look away from him. “Don’t you think she has beautiful breasts, Miss Steele?” 

I’m intoxicated by his voice, by their proximity, by everything that’s happening. I nod slowly.

“Well, I just want to bite Ana’s breasts,” she purrs. I can hear hunger in her voice.

“Why don’t you, Miss Kavanagh?” he says.

“Mmmm,” she says, like she’s in a soup commercial, licking her lips. She stands up, pressing her ass against Christian, wiggles a little, and then bends at the hips and does just that: she bites my breasts. And _Jesus_ does it feel incredible.

“Miss Steele, I’m going to fuck Miss Kavanagh, if that’s alright with you.” My head is thrown completely back and I’m so close already that I cannot complain about anything. I feel the ropes straining against every part of my body. I hear the tearing of a foil wrapper.

Kate releases my breasts and places her hands in the creases between my thighs and my torso. I look at her and she gives me an evil, sexy wink. Her thumbs press against my clit lightly.

And then Christian hooks his hands around Kate’s hips and pounds into her. She jerks forward towards me and the pressure of her thumbs. Feels. So. Good.

Then they both pull back slowly. I lock eyes with Christian. I gasp. He smiles then rams into her again and Kate slips a thumb inside of me. I scream into my gag.

We continue this sweet rhythm I have no idea how long, quickening the pace until we’re all panting.

“Are you ready, Anastasia?”

I know that barely anything is needed to push me over the edge. I nod vigorously. Christian and Kate both smile wickedly and on the next, violent thrust, Christian smacks Kate’s ass hard, and she plunges her other thumb inside of me as we scream together.

I wake up and find I have one hand on my left breast and one hand down the front of Christian’s underwear. I feel myself shuddering from after-shocks under my fingertips. _Oh my_ , I have never masturbated before much less done it in my sleep. 

My first ever wet dream.

 _What the hell was that?!_ Is _that_ what I want? Is that what turns me on? I want to say no, but that is the most vivid dream I have ever had. 

And the hottest.

I chug the glass of water on my nightstand and grab my phone. I hesitate, but I send Christian a text message like he asked.

_*I’m awake, sir.*_

There’s an immediate reply.

_*Did you have a nice dream?*_

I giggle to myself and flop backwards on the bed.

“You have _no_ idea, Mr. Grey,” I say out loud.


	9. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana does some research and answers some of her own questions about the contract.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains large sections from the original book by E. L. James and a direct quote from Wikipedia.org. Any alterations have been highlighted.

**Chapter 9 –––––––––––**

**Research**

Finally, I force myself to reply to Christian’s text.

_*Yes, sir. Very nice indeed.*_

Not a minute after I hit send, my phone pings.

_*Ah, but did you behave yourself, Miss Steele?*_

I am now completely convinced. He _must_ know. There’s got to be a camera somewhere in my room. I wave my hand around just in case to let him know I know.

_*Any misbehavior was completely unconscious, Mr. Grey*_

I wait for a reply but it’s long in coming. I decide to hit the shower and get dressed instead of focusing on it.

Before I’ve even finished drying off, I hear the doorbell.

Who in their right mind would show up here at 9:30 in the morning? None of our friends ring the doorbell anyway. We don’t have a peephole, so I just open the door.

A young man with a pony tail is standing there in a uniform-style polo shirt and khaki pants, looking enthusiastic and cheery. It’s way too early for that. He’s holding a large box.

“Hello,” I say in surprise. Just not what I expected. I’m not sure what I expected.

“Miss Steele?” I nod. He suddenly looks _very_ uncomfortable, attempting to look everywhere but at me. He is failing miserably.

I realize I’m in my tiny towel and nothing else, dripping wet. I guess it’s time I invest in a bathrobe.

“I have a delivery for you, may I come in to set it up?”

I take a step back and grant him entry.

“Where would you like me to set this up?” he asks.

“Well, what is it?” 

“It’s a pre-release MacBook Pro.”

Of course it is.

“On the dining room table is fine,” I say, leading him there. “Now, will you excuse me, I really should get dressed.”

I head into my room, feeling his eyes on my ass as I walk. I slam the door behind me.

Picking up my phone, I see I have a new text message from Christian Grey.

_*I think I will have to hold you responsible for unconscious indiscretions. Doesn’t seem fair you should have a free pass just because you’re asleep, Miss Steele*_

My fingers fly over the keys in reply.

_*I don’t particularly think that’s fair. Meanwhile, what’s with the computer?*_

He replies right away this time.

_*Good, it was delivered. It’s for research. I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.*_

_Ha_ , like I didn’t get a first-hand demonstration last night.

_*I already have an idea of what I’m getting myself into and I have the sore ass to prove it.*_

“Miss Steele?” I hear the tech guy call from the other room.

I quickly throw on a pair of jeans and a tank top, not bothering to waste time on a bra or underwear. At least I’m more covered than I was when I met the poor guy.

Walking out of my room, I see that the computer is all set up. I sit down next to him at the table. 

“Now, Miss Steele, I’m going to show you how to set up your new Grey Industries email address and how to access the internet. Is there anything else you’d like to do on this computer?”

I think for a minute. New email address? I already have my WSU email. I guess it’d be better to have a more professional address. And it would be great to work on my resume on this computer.

“Word processing?”

He gives me a rundown of all the applications on the computer, explaining that the iTunes account is linked to Mr. Grey’s, so I should be able to purchase any music I want or any additional applications I may need without incurring any expense.

I roll my eyes.

“Thank you,” I say, showing him out.

He’s making me so uncomfortable, constantly sneaking peeks at my chest. _Ah, yeah_ , I remember. _No bra._

Finally he leaves and I head back over to the computer. I already have an email.

> From: Christian Grey
> 
> Subject: New Contract
> 
> Date: May 23 2011 10:15
> 
> To: Anastasia Steele
> 
> Miss Steele,
> 
> I’ve attached a revised copy of our contract. Please have a look over it, do some research (despite your _extensive_ first-hand knowledge), and let me know of any changes you’d like to make. I’ll have it updated and we can just proceed with signing on Wednesday evening. I don’t like to leave these things waiting.
> 
> Christian Grey  
>  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
> 
> PS, I expect a full accounting of the dream in question at dinner Wednesday.

I take the computer into my bedroom and close the door. This research and the contract aren’t things I really want Kate looking at over my shoulder. My abdominal muscles tense at the thought. It would embarrass  the hell out of me.

I open up the contract pdf and really read it carefully. The main part of the contract only has two changes:

> 12 The Submissive will make herself available to the Dominant from Friday evenings through to Sunday afternoons **_every second, third, and fourth weekend of the month_** during the Term at times to be specified by the Dominant (“the Allotted Times”). Further allocated time can be mutually agreed on an ad hoc basis;

And

> **_15.25 The Submissive will be forthright with the Dominant in regards to her sexual experience and any discomfort, physical or emotional, she may experience without the need for the Dominant to prompt her_ **

I guess I should have anticipated him adding a clause to that effect. I continue on with the appendices. The changes I see are just as we discussed for the most part.

> Food:
> 
> The Submissive will eat regularly to maintain her health and **_make every effort to eat three full, healthy meals daily._**
> 
> Clothes:
> 
> During the Term the Submissive will wear clothing only approved by the Dominant **_while in his presence._** The Dominant will provide a clothing budget for the Submissive, which the Submissive shall utilize. The Dominant shall accompany the Submissive to purchase clothing on an ad hoc basis. If the Dominant so requires the Submissive shall during the Term wear adornments the Dominant shall require, in the presence of the Dominant.
> 
> Exercise:
> 
> The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with a personal trainer **_three_** times a week in hour-long sessions at times to be mutually agreed between the personal trainer and the Submissive. The personal trainer will report to the Dominant on the Submissive’s progress.
> 
> Personal Hygiene/Beauty:
> 
> The Submissive will keep herself clean and shaved and/or waxed at all times. The Submissive will visit a beauty salon of the Dominant’s choosing at times to be **_agreed on by the Dominant_** **_and the Submissive_** , and undergo whatever treatments the Dominant sees fit. All costs will be met by the Dominant.

But one thing is now sticking out to me that didn’t before.

> Personal Qualities:
> 
> The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant.

Crap. It shouldn’t be a problem, and yet I hesitate. Once I sign this, I’ve shut that door. Perhaps this warrants a real discussion. 

No. I’m being ridiculous. I’m not going to “enter into any sexual relations” with Kate. 

I’m not.

I chant this to myself but my Inner Goddess lowers her oversize Jackie O-style sunglasses and peers at me with a knowing smile.

I’m not, dammit.

The last things to look over are the hard and soft limits. The hard limits all seem totally reasonable. I wouldn’t want to do any of these things anyway. _Children?_ No thank you.

The soft limits is something like a survey.

> APPENDIX 3
> 
> Soft Limits
> 
> To be discussed and agreed between both parties:
> 
> Which of the following sexual acts are acceptable to the Submissive?
> 
> • Masturbation
> 
> • Fellatio
> 
> • Cunnilingus
> 
> • Vaginal intercourse
> 
> • Vaginal fisting
> 
> • Anal intercourse
> 
> • Anal fisting

I’m a bit skeptical on those last three so I decide to open up Firefox and do a quick Google search.

The images that come up are horrifying, but I decide not to judge it by the depraved things people advertise on the internet. I click on the link to Wikipedia’s article on fisting.

What stands out to me is the heading of “Risks”:

> _Fisting can cause_ [ _laceration_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laceration) _or_ [ _perforation_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Organ_perforation) _of the_ [ _vagina_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vagina) _,_ [ _perineum_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perineum) _,_ [ _rectum_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rectum) _, and/or_ [ _colon_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colon_\(anatomy\)) _, resulting in serious injury_ _[4]_ _and even death._ _[5][6][7][8]_ _In general, sexual activities that cause air to enter the vagina can lead to a fatal_ [ _air embolism_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Air_embolism) _, and the risk is probably even higher during pregnancy._ _[9]_

Absolutely not. I won’t be doing that any time soon. 

I squirm in my seat just thinking about it.

When I look up “anal sex” on the same site, I am sort of overwhelmed by how much more comprehensive the article is. There’s entries about how it’s viewed in different cultures, different religions, and how different male-female setups would work. The female-to-male one is completely confusing to me, but I skip over it.

Quite honestly, after having read the whole thing, it sounds like if your partner knows what he’s doing, it’s safe and very enjoyable. I assume Christian knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t seem like the type to undertake something like this without doing his own crazy-obsessive level of research.

It’s something I’d consider. I think I have to work my way up to.

> Is swallowing semen acceptable to the Submissive?

Done and doner.

> Is the use of sex toys acceptable to the Submissive?
> 
> • Vibrators
> 
> • Dildos
> 
> • Butt Plugs
> 
> • Other

Another quick Google search and I decide that other than the blanket term “other” I should be fine with it. Why not?

> Is Bondage acceptable to the Submissive?
> 
> • Hands in front
> 
> • Hands behind back
> 
> • Ankles
> 
> • Knees
> 
> • Elbows
> 
> • Wrists to ankles
> 
> • Spreader bars
> 
> • Tied to furniture
> 
> • Blindfolding
> 
> • Gagging
> 
> • Bondage with Rope
> 
> • Bondage with Tape
> 
> • Bondage with leather cuffs
> 
> • Suspension
> 
> • Bondage with handcuffs/metal restraints

Okay, so that’s a lot, and I guess the only one that scares me is suspension. After coming across an image of a woman hanging from her back piercings, I’m pretty turned off by the whole idea of it.

> What is the Submissive’s general attitude about receiving pain? Where 1 is likes intensely and 5 is dislikes intensely: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5
> 
> How much pain does the submissive want to receive? Where 1 is none and 5 is severe: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5

I don’t really know how to answer those ones.

> Which of the following types of pain/punishment/discipline are acceptable to the Submissive?
> 
> • Spanking
> 
> • Paddling
> 
> • Whipping
> 
> • Caning
> 
> • Biting
> 
> • Nipple clamps
> 
> • Genital clamps
> 
> • Ice
> 
> • Hot wax
> 
> • Other types/methods of pain

“Genital clamps” are a definite no. I don’t even have to search that one. I can tell from the name that it’s not something I could ever do. Ever. Jesus.

Caning scares the shit out of me, so maybe I should go ahead and rule that out as well. Just to be safe.

I compose a reply to Christian’s email:

> From: Anastasia Steele
> 
> Subject: New Contract Amendments
> 
> Date: May 23 2011 12:15
> 
> To: Christian Grey
> 
> Mr. Grey
> 
> I’ve read over the new contract and have attached my updates including my answers on Appendix 3. There are still a few items up for discussion on Wednesday, but this is just my first shot at it.
> 
> I’ve come across one other provision that has me hesitating. It’s not a big deal, but perhaps it’s something else we can discuss in person.
> 
> Thank you very much for the computer — it  is proving to be an excellent research tool. I admit, I overestimated my knowledge base.
> 
> Anastasia Steele
> 
> PS, I can tell you about the dream if you promise not to get mad.


	10. The Funbox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a texting snafu, Kate teaches Ana a bit about toys.

**Chapter 10 ––––––––––**

**The Funbox**

José calls me that afternoon while I’m at work.

“Hey, are we doing coffee?” He sounds like his old self. Thank god.

“Sure. I’m at work. Can you make it here, for, say, twelve?”

“See you then.”

I’ll say this, José is never late. He runs into the store and wraps me in a huge hug. “Ana,” he smiles.

Something is different. He’s the same. I swear he’s the same. Maybe _I’m_ different. I hope he can’t tell. “Hi, José,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my voice sounds totally different to my ears. More mature.

I let Mrs. Clayton know I’m heading out for lunch before we head to the coffee shop.

I order tea and a cheese sandwich, José gets a coffee and a muffin. He must have skipped breakfast. He never eats breakfast.

We find a nice table by the window. I forgot these chairs were plain wood seats. Memories of my dream flood back and I feel myself blushing. I feel something tighten deep inside of me. I’m so surprised by it that I plop myself onto the chair less than gracefully. The soreness in my ass makes me wince slightly.

“Are you alright, Ana?” 

 _Shit_. José must have seen. Shit. I suck at lying.

“Yeah, I fell in the bathroom yesterday. I’m just a little sore.”

“Jesus, are you okay?”

I nod, hoping he’ll drop it. 

He eyes me for a moment then stares at his coffee.

“Do you really forgive me, Ana?” he murmurs to his oversized mug.

“José, you know I can never stay mad at you for long.”

He grins stupidly at me. At least some things don’t change.

* * *

I spend all of Tuesday packing and occasionally researching my new lifestyle — I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m committed. 

I haven’t seen Kate since Sunday night because her family is in town for graduation on Thursday. We plan to hang out during the day Wednesday. She said she’d help me finish off the waxing and then do a little shopping before my date that night. I’m getting more and more nervous as Tuesday evening rolls around, both about my dinner with Christian and about my daytime plans with Kate.

As I drift off to sleep, I check my phone one more time. I have a new text from Christian.

_*Looking forward to dinner tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 6pm. See you then.*_

I reply,

_*I’m sure I’ll see you sooner than that - in my dreams.*_

Before I put my phone down, it pings. There’s a new reply.

_*I really can’t wait to hear about this dream. Care to give me a preview?*_

I smile to myself.

_*I was tied to my bedroom chair wearing just your underwear*_

I hit send and wait. I compose another one.

_*And then you cut them off me and I was completely naked.*_

I hesitate just a moment too long. A text from Kate pops up just as I hit send. _Shit!_ I sent it to Kate. 

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I open her text.

_*Does 10am work for our intimate waxing session? You haven’t pussied out yet, have you?*_

Crap.

There’s a long three minutes before she knocks on my bedroom door. My phone keeps pinging but I ignore it.

I open the door, my entire body red from blushing.

“Uh, Ana, I think you sexted the wrong person accidentally.”

I cover my face with my hands. I could not be more embarrassed.

“Is that a new laptop?” she asks, shock in her voice.

“Um, yes,” I murmur. Before I can stop her, she plops down on my bed in her tiny bicycle shorts and opens up the MacBook Pro.

“Wow, Ana. This, uh, is some kind of research,” she giggles.

I run over and see that a webpage discussing different types of vibrators and dildos is open, complete with full-color pictures of toys and video of how to use them.

Aha, it turns out I _can_ be more embarrassed.

I slam the screen shut.

“Uh, that’s, uh... I didn’t mean for you,” I stutter. I glance up at her to find her with a giant grin across her face.

“It’s okay, Ana.” She eases the laptop out of my arms and fires it back up. “Just, these ones here are too much for you. Try this.” She pulls up a new page and enters in a web address for a sex shop called Babeland. She clicks through as though she’s been to it a hundred times. She points at the screen and smiles at me.

“This one is a good starter.” I stare at her. I knew she was experienced, but somehow I thought this would be a bit too freaky for her. “Is this just for you or for you and a buddy?”

“Uh, Kate, I don’t really... I’m not really looking. I was just curious.” She eyes me incredulously. “Christian may have mentioned it,” I say, thinking about the soft limits in the contract. “But I don’t really know how intense it would be. It scares me a little.” She gives me that sexy, mischievous smile again and hops off the bed, rushing out of the room. I sit awkwardly on the bed, holding my head in my hands. I think my face will be red for the next hour. I can’t take much more of this.

A minute later, she’s back with a small box. It’s decorated and looks sort of like an oversized jewelry box. Across the top it says, “Funbox” in gold calligraphy. She jumps back onto the bed next to me, bouncing before settling. She sits cross-legged and puts the box in her lap facing me.

“You better not freaking judge me, Steele,” she says as she opens the box and I nearly spit-take.

The interior is lined with sky blue velvet and slid into the custom-sized depressions are three pink sex toys.

I know my mouth is hanging open like I’m catching flies. I try to talk, to respond in some way, but I just wind up flapping my jaw.

“So, this one,” Kate says, pulling the largest one out of the box. It’s smooth, shiny pink plastic, shaped like a missile. It has to be at least 10” long and about 3” around. It looks more like a toddler’s arm than a penis in my opinion. “I got this one last year after dating Jorge. You remember Jorge?”

I remember Jorge. He was the largest 22-year-old I have ever met. He was a linebacker for the WSU team. About 6’5” and probably 250lbs of pure muscle and genetic perfection. Meeting him was like that scene in _Twins_ when they explain that Arnold is all the good genes and Danny DeVito is all the bad ones. They dated for all of about three weeks. I barely slept during that time because of all the noise they made. All night.

I nod. I don’t get it.

“What can I say, I craved the size once we broke up.”

 _Oh._  

“It’s just a dildo, it doesn’t do anything, but it _is_ big.” 

She’s got that right. 

I try to imagine that in my... It’s laughable. Hell, it’s painful. I try to imagine a penis that size and I fail miserably.

“This one,” she says, replacing the giant Jorge cock, “I got when I was dating Jeanette.”

Jeanette?

I don’t remember any Jeanette.

I would remember Jeanette.

This one’s not nearly as scary as Jorge. It’s got some sort of cute penguin on the front. I spend a few seconds wondering what any possible purpose of that could be. I’m distracted when she presses a small button on the side and the whole thing kicks to life. Swirling, vibrating, flicking. 

“Here,” she says, grabbing my index finger and pressing it against the penguin’s beak.

Holy shit, that thing is moving fast. I blush crimson and pull my finger back to the sounds of Kate’s giggles.

She picks up the last one, a small pink non-fallus-shaped vibrator. “This one I got when I was in high school. It is great. It’s my go-to,” she says.

She hands it to me and I receive it unwittingly into my hand. It feels comfortable in my hand.

“Press here,” she says, pointing at a small “plus” sign on the back of it, near where my thumb is.

Depending how many times I press, it vibrates at different speeds, different rhythms.

“You should start with something like Billy.”

Billy?

“I named her Billie after Billie Piper. You know, from _Confessions of a London Call-Girl_?”

Ah, _Billie_.

Kate winks at me. My blood turns fiery in my veins.

“Why don’t you hang onto Billie for a while. I’m thinking of upgrading anyway,” she says, crawling across my lap to click a few links on the computer. A new page comes up in the browser.

“This one has Bluetooth and connects to your iPhone.” She smiles sexily at me. I’m not even sure I understand the words coming out of her mouth, but they are titillating. 

Kate leans in slightly to me. 

“Want me to show you how to use him?” she asks. 

I gulp.

_Yes._

Saved by the bell, once again, my _computer_ starts ringing. We both look over at it and some application has popped up called Skype. I literally have no idea what’s happening, so I click “Answer.”

A video chat with Christian opens up. He’s sitting at his desk — _the_ desk — in a pale blue checked shirt and the tie from my dream. I feel something in me throb.

“Good evening, Miss Kavanagh, Miss Steele,” he says, a little surprise coloring his voice.

I glance at the tiny rectangle in the corner of the screen showing what Christian sees. I’m sitting with my legs over the edge of the bed, twisted to face the computer screen and Kate is laying across my lap. Her breasts are front and center.

“Hello, Mr. Grey. I hope you were _good_ to our sweet little Miss Steele over the weekend,” she purrs.

I panic. Kate and her fucking mouth!

“I believe she enjoyed herself,” he smiles back at her. “Did you _enjoy_ yourself, Miss Steele?”

They both look at me, clearly pleased with themselves. My face is hot and I stammer, “Um, yes, sir.”

Christian leans forward towards the screen, his eyes darkening. _Oh, I like that look_ , I think. Kate raises an eyebrow at me. “Sir?” she mouths.

“Good, I’m glad,” he says, leaning back, lacing his hands in front of him. “Have you two been behaving yourselves?” My breath hitches.

“I was just loaning Ana a toy,” Kate says, standing up and closing the Funbox. “I was going to show her how to use it next, but now that you’re here, maybe you can act as teacher, Mr. Grey.” She turns over her shoulder and winks at me. “I bet you could learn a few things from her, too.”

I flap my mouth again, ineffectually. 

“Laters!” she shouts as she leaves, closing the door behind her with a giggle.

"I think I'm starting to like this Miss Kavanagh," Christian says. Oh boy.


	11. A Skype How-To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian gives Ana a self-pleasure tutorial

**Chapter 11 ––––––––––**

**A Skype How-To**

“So, Miss Steele, may I see this toy?”

I blush crimson and hold up Billie for him to see. A wicked smile spreads across his face.

“Alright Miss Steele, why don’t you set that down on the bed for a moment. I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

I do as he says, surprised that I feel just a bit put out. I haven’t _earned_ it yet?

“Do as I say and I will reward you. Disobey and you will be punished. Do you understand, Miss Steele?”

I nod. I don’t really know what else to do.

“Stand up, I want to see you.” I do as I’m told, turning the screen to face me. In the corner of the screen, I can see myself from about my ankles up. “Now, take off your shirt.” Okay, I guess this is starting. I grab the hem of my tank top and yank it over my head. “Slowly,” he says forcefully. I stop completely with my elbows above my head and my shirt completely covering my face. I hear him hum. Finally, I manage to get loose of the damn shirt and stand there in my shorts and bra.

“Good,” he says, fire glowing in his eyes. “ _Slowly_ , take off your bra.” I keep my eyes on the screen, determined to be sexy, and unclasp the front of my bra. I open it and let it slide down my arms far more gracefully than I could have managed with a back-closing bra.

“You have perfect breasts, Miss Steele. I wish I could bite them,” he says quietly. My breath catches and I feel a rolling sensation in my groin. “Touch them for me.”

I feel awkward and gangly as I paw at my own chest. “No, no, stop,” he orders, leaning forward. “Close your eyes. Now imagine I’m standing behind you.” I think of the immense heat his body gives off and instantly imagine my back is burning up. “I’m running my hand up your arm and across your collarbone.” I use my left hand to run along my skin as he described. I do it softly, barely touching. Electricity crackles in my hand’s wake.

“Good. Then I slide my hand over your breast from above, letting my fingers wrap around all sides of it, lifting it, squeezing gently.” I can’t describe it — even though I know it’s my own hand, it’s so erotic imagining him touching me, listening to his words, knowing he’s watching me.

“Now I take your nipple in my fingers and pinch it hard, twisting it slightly.” I follow suit and hear myself yelp in surprise and pleasure.

“With my free hand, I grab at your other breast from below, squeezing and lifting, pinching and caressing.” Both of my hands are kneading my breasts and I am moaning low. I know Kate can hear me and I find that makes me even hornier. I don’t even know if I’m surprised by that anymore.

“Push them together and lick them, Miss Steele,” he says. I dip my head and open my mouth, panting as I let my tongue drag across the tops of my breasts and down the line of cleavage I’ve created. It feels divine. 

“Look at me, Miss Steele.” I open my eyes and the fantasy is broken. Christian isn’t touching me.

But it’s all replaced with another fantasy, the one that’s playing out in reality right now. Christian is dominating me. We’re having video sex and I feel a carnal desire for him. I’m wet and I rub my thighs together to get some sort of comfort, still kneading my breasts and staring into his eyes.

“You look incredible, Miss Steele.” He’s panting, too. _I_ am turning _him_ on. “But you are wearing entirely too many clothes. Take off your shorts.”

Releasing my breasts, I slide my hands down my torso and grab the waistband my shorts, pulling at them. I turn around seductively, getting really into it now, and bend at the waist, pulling my shorts down over my ass until they’re at a puddle on the floor and my ass is completely bared to him. I know he’s had this view before, but now I’m _giving_ it to him without him asking. I hear his sudden intake of breath and turn around, standing up. I am completely naked and feeling incredibly hot.

“You weren’t wearing any panties, Miss Steele,” he whispers in mock shock. “I’m appalled.”

I smile coyly at him and begin kneading my breasts again, truly enjoying it now for the power he holds over me, the pleasure I feel, and for the power I now know I have over him. I see his reaction and he is clearly turned on.

“Move the computer back and kneel on the bed.”

I position myself and the computer so he can still see all of me, and kneel on the bed. I feel even more exposed now that I’m closer to the screen.

“Now spread your knees about shoulder width apart, Miss Steele.” I comply. “I want you to show me how you pleasure yourself.”

I hesitate. _How I pleasure myself?_ Does he mean masturbate? Since I’ve never done that — except asleep on Sunday night, of course — I don’t know what to do.

“But sir,” I say quietly, sitting back on my heels. “I don’t know how.”

He closes his eyes for a long moment and takes a deep breath. “Ana, you haven’t even,” he stops himself. “Had you never had an orgasm before Saturday?” I shake my head no. He tilts his head back and runs both hands through his curly copper hair. Watching him do that makes me bite my lip. I want to run my hands through that hair. 

He looks at me again, serious. “I’m going to teach you how to make yourself come, Ana,” he says sternly. “You need to know this. I need you to know this so that one day, when you have a boyfriend who can’t or won’t give you what you need, I don’t have to worry about you not being fulfilled.”

One day when I have a boyfriend who’s not _him_ he means. I guess the contract does have an end date. It should be expected that he is planning for a time I’m not his.

Hm, I guess I’m already thinking of myself as his. That’s news.

I nod, too nervous to speak. 

“Hold up your index finger, Miss Steele,” he says, returning to his dom mode. “Good. Place it right in between your breasts, in the center of your body, pointing down.” He holds his finger up and places it in the middle of his chest, to show me. “No, press harder. That’s better. Now, move your finger down the center of your body slowly. Dip inside your belly button and... Stop. Why don’t you lean back, Ana, against the headboard? I want to see you.” I can tell he’s talking about my vagina since he can see me clearly and I hesitate again. It’s one thing for him to see it and another for it to be ten inches tall on his computer screen. “Now, Ana.”

Finally, I adjust my position so I’ve got my knees in the air, but my head is still upright to see the computer screen.

“Spread your knees, Ana. I need to see.” I do it, though slowly. I know it’s wet down there and quite honestly I’m thoroughly embarrassed. 

“Move me closer, right between your thighs.” I do what he asks. “God, that’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” I hear him mutter. I don’t know if I was supposed to hear that, but I feel my body tighten at his words. 

I look in the lower corner of the screen and see my inner workings for the first time. It’s bright pink and glistening. I haven’t waxed yet, but I can see where that will help with the overall look. Now I am _completely_ committed to the waxing tomorrow. I don’t care how much it hurts.

“Where were we,” he asks, amused at my prone position. “Ah yes, your belly button. Dip your finger inside your belly button and keep going down. Good.” His words have slowed and so has my finger. It feels naughty and so very good. My body is warming and I know I’m getting close to something.

“Now spread the flat of your palm out as you pass over your mons. Yes, Ana. You’re doing wonderfully. How are you feeling?”

“Good, sir. Good.”

He smiles briefly. “Ease off the pressure and slowly, lightly run the palm of your hand down over your vagina.” Tingles and tremors pass over my entire body as I let my hand skim along my hair. Everything down there has a dewiness about it and it’s so soft. I never knew it was so soft, like velvet. I remember my first blowjob and think how perfectly matched men and women’s parts are.

“Now bring your hand back up, lightly.” He’s keeping very cool, but I see desire in his eyes. It’s the same look he gave me in the elevator. “Good. How do you feel, Ana?”

All I can do is nod emphatically. He laughs quietly.

“Alright. Now do that again, but this time press with your hand a little. Tell me how it feels.” 

I follow instructions and involuntarily buck my hips slightly, pushing my hand hard against my opening. I nearly scream. “I feel so close, Mr. Grey. So close.”

He nods slowly at me. “Do you remember that finger, Ana? Instead of rubbing your palm back up, I want you to slowly drag your finger up.” 

My finger dips gently into my folds and I shiver, moaning loudly. I don’t want to keep going, but I do at the same time. I try not to think about it too hard. When I reach the front of my vagina, there’s a rough patch that press my finger against. “Sir,” I gasp.

He lowers his eyelids slightly. At once he’s both terrifying and delectable. Either way, he’s simply sinful to look at. “Keep going, Ana.”

Almost grumpily, I let my finger continue its journey north and am surprised to find it keeps getting better. There’s a magnetism pulling my finger towards something. When I reach it, I moan, moving my hips forward, my ass nearly on the keyboard. “Christian!”

“Miss Steele, I do hope you’re enjoying yourself,” he says smugly.

I let my finger skim around my clit in a lazy circle, relaxing and tensing. I can hardly control the movements of my body as my back arches and my free arm reaches out for anything to grab onto for stability. I get a good hold on one of the rails of the headboard and clutch tightly. “I think I’m going to come, Mr. Grey,” I nearly shout.

“I’m so glad, Miss Steele. Now stop.”

_Stop?!_

I whine, but I do as he says. 

I’m lying on my bed (and my new laptop), completely exposed to this man over the internet, panting and heaving, and completely sweaty. Now that my entire focus isn’t on the tiny spot between my knees, I become very aware of my breasts tingling and my ass heating up and all the muscles between my knees and my shoulders flexing.

“You are a very good sub, Ana. You have pleased me.” I can’t bring myself to smile. I just continue to pout.

“I think you deserve a reward,” he says with a grin. “Why don’t you pick up Miss Kavanagh’s little friend?”

I blush crimson but quickly grab the little pink vibrator sitting on my quilt.

“Press that plus button on the back once. Yes. Now, Miss Steele, this will be very intense and you will want to come very quickly. I want you to hold off until I say. Is that clear?”

I nod slowly, still breathless.

“Good, now press little Katie between your breasts.” _Little Katie?!_ I wonder if he knows that Kate and I have been flirting. I don’t want to think about it too hard right now. I press the gently vibrating toy between my breasts and feel it all the way up and down my spine. I can feel it in my ass and in my head, in my breasts and in my clit. “This is the lowest setting, but I think that will be sufficient. How do you feel, Miss Steele?”

I can’t form words anymore. I just groan in pleasure.

“Excellent. Now, just as before, move down slowly towards your belly button.”

I close my eyes for a moment and imagine Christian’s hands on me. My head flies back and I’m almost overcome by an orgasm, but I lighten the pressure from the toy and take a slow, deliberate breath. I begin again, dipping into my belly button and feeling the vibrations everywhere.

“With a lighter pressure, Miss Steele, keep going until you’re positioned just over your clit.”

Slowly and ever so lightly I reach my center, which is swollen and sensitive beyond belief. I am basically hovering over it but can feel every movement so intensely that I feel like I may never breathe normally again.

“Press down with the toy, Miss Steele.”

I do. Colors flash before my eyes. I’m definitely about to come.

“Wait, Miss Steele, not yet.”

My mind starts racing to distract myself, but it can’t seem to get a grip onto anything to help. I’m going to come whether he likes it or not.

Finally, he leans forward and says, “Alright, Miss Steele, you can let Katie make you come now.”


	12. Smooth Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana and Kate finally have their intimate waxing session. And it DOES get intimate.

**Chapter 12 ––––––––––**

**Smooth Moves**

At 10am on the dot, there’s a soft knock on my door before Kate starts pushing it open slowly. I’m not fully awake yet, my cybersex session with Christian went fairly late and I realize the laptop is still open on my bed and I guess I fell asleep without getting under the covers.

And without putting on pajamas.

“Uh, just, uh, give me a second, Kate!” I sputter, desperately trying to cover myself up before she walks in. I find a giant t-shirt on the floor and toss it on. When I look up, Kate is standing in the doorway with a huge grin on her face. Something tells me she got a peek before I got the shirt the whole way on.

“Anastasia,” she scolds me playfully. “I hope you enjoyed your lesson last night.” She sidles over to me with the hot wax already heated up. She lays a towel on my bed and closes my laptop. “Did Mr. Grey give you any homework?” 

“Damn you, Katherine Kavanagh, you are enjoying this way too much,” I say, blush rushing to my cheeks.

She laughs, throwing her head back. Her strawberry blonde curls bounce slightly, as do her breasts. She’s still in her 30 Seconds to Mars t-shirt, which usually does very little for her figure, but her breasts this morning are like peaks, straining against the fabric. I can nearly make out the little pink tips...

“Alright, Steele. On the bed. Spread ‘em.” Her demeanor changes drastically and she reminds me so much of Christian that I immediately feel myself moisten. 

“May I pee first?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “I suppose. Just don’t chicken out on me, okay?”

I rush out of the room and down the hall to our tiny bathroom. “Get it together, Steele, she’s your roommate!” I mutter, splashing a bit of water on my face before heading back.

When I come back in, Kate is standing in front of my bed with the wax on the floor by her feet. “Okay, sit,” she says, pointing directly in front of her.

I do, and realize that this is really happening. I’m about to show Kate my whole naked crotch. Yep, this isn’t awkward at all.

“Now, Ana, relax,” she says, her voice softening. She puts her hands on my shoulders. “It’s just like Sunday when I did your legs, okay. It’s just,” she hesitates for a moment. “More of the same.”

I smile weakly in reply. I try to stare straight ahead, but her breasts are right there, distracting me. I look back up at her face.

“Now, uh,” she stammers. That’s weird. Kate _doesn’t_ stammer. I’ve never heard her stammer. “Just, um, lie back.” I hesitate, but she pushes my shoulders back until she’s practically pinning me to the bed. She looks at me a long moment before standing back up. My breathing gets heavier and I can feel my heart beating in my chest. Surely she can hear it.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you know.” It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. She licks her lips nervously and I feel my pulse quicken. 

She seems to gather herself for a moment and kneels in front of me, about eye-level with my crotch. I actively decide not to watch. I stare at the ceiling then decide I need a pillow to scream into. The anticipation is killing me. Both of my inevitable arousal and the pain I know to expect. I reach out an arm and grab my fluffiest pillow and squeeze it to my face.

“Here, you have to spread your legs, Ana. Put your feet up here and scooch down.”

I do as she says. Just the same as I did last night with Christian on the computer. I feel myself tighten and hear some sort of a muffled noise from Kate that I am simply too anxious to interpret right now.

“I’m going to, uh, put some talcum powder on first, so don’t freak out.” I murmur into my pillow by way of a response. I feel Kate moving around below me but nothing more.

“This is going to be warm,” she starts, but immediately stops. “Nope, it needs to be hotter. Hold on.” She stands up and runs out of the room. I hear the microwave going and my apprehension just grows and grows. I feel utterly exposed but can’t make myself change position. I know I’ll just have to get into this awkward spot again in a minute.

Finally the microwave beeps and she comes back into the room, closing the door behind her. “You need to relax, Ana. Zone out,” she mumbles, and I can hear my own anxiety level mirrored in her voice. She opens my laptop next to me on the bed and fires up iTunes. “I think we need some dance music,” she says and blasts “Stronger” by Kelly Clarkson. I can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, this is going to be hot. I’m going to work in little sections.” She kneels in front of me again and I can feel her skin hovering inches from my core. I feel the now-familiar sensation of the hot wax spreading along the edge of my hairline. It’s not that bad. It’s actually pretty sensual. She spreads the wax slowly and deliberately. She stops for a moment. I’m nearly vibrating with desire right now. For what, I’m not sure, but I definitely feel my lips quiver once or twice. I wonder if Kate can tell. After watching myself come last night, I have a better sense of what all that looks like to an outside observer. I don’t have confidence in my ability to hide my arousal suddenly.

All of a sudden I feel Kate’s cool breath on my skin as she blows where she just spread the wax. I nearly come on the spot. I moan into the pillow but manage to keep my hips from bucking. _Thank god!_

Kate smoothes the fabric strip on the wax and presses two fingertips into the sensitive skin just above my hair. “You ready, Steele?” she breathes. Before I can respond, she rips the strip back and I scream gutturally into the pillow. “Sorry, Ana,” she says quietly, before continuing.

Six strips later, I’m panting. I can barely hold myself together. The wax is turning me on and all, but the thing that nearly puts me over the edge each time is Kate blowing on my skin. And, despite myself, I’m having a hard time controlling myself when the pain hits. I’ve been counting out loud, though I hope Kate can’t tell and just hears generic yelling. 

She starts moving down to either side of my opening, where the skin is most sensitive. She smooths the wax all over now, then blows gently side to side. I can’t help myself this time and my hips move of their own accord. I know I’m blushing crimson everywhere.

I pull the pillow from my face long enough to mutter a pathetic “Sorry!”

Kate laughs gently. “Seriously, Ana, don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” she purrs. “You look incredibly hot right now, you know.” She smooths the fabric again. I’ve stopped breathing entirely. Is she seriously flirting with me when her fingers are right _there_?

She rips the final two strips and blows on the skin gently to sooth the pain. “Time for the lotion, Steele,” she says. I can hear her rubbing her palms together and I tense again.

“You must be an incredible sight when you come, Ana,” she whispers, massaging the lotion onto my mons slowly. 

I pull the pillow from my face and sit up just enough so I can see her. We lock eyes. “Kate,” I say, but I have no other words.

Her fingers rub in circles over my skin, sliding easily along its hypersensitive surface, slowly working her way down towards my folds. 

“I wonder if I can make you come, Ana,” she whispers back, still holding my gaze. It almost seems like a question, like she’s asking permission. I can’t think straight. I can barely see straight. I don’t really know what’s happening, but I am so incredibly turned on right now I just stare at her. 

Still looking directly into my eyes, her fingers run down either side of my vagina achingly slowly. I throw my head onto the bed as another long sigh escapes my lips. 

I feel her second hand join her first, running her fingertips just below my bellybutton like she did Sunday night. I shudder involuntarily as her fingers circle back around my hood, never touching the vital spots. She’s carefully avoiding them I think.

“Did Christian touch you like this?” she says breathily. I nod and moan quietly. “Did he do this?” She blows gently on my clit and I feel myself tensing, drawing close to my orgasm. I shake my head no. “No? Has he licked you yet, Ana?” she asks. I’m nearly there and then I feel her hot breath just above my core. It feels even hotter than the wax.

She just touches the very tip of her tongue to my clit and I explode, convulsing and writhing from pleasure.

Finally, I come down off my high and am terrified of sitting up, facing the reality of what just happened. 

 _Am I a lesbian?_ I ask myself, but dismiss the idea almost immediately. I enjoyed fucking Christian entirely too much for that to be a possibility. _Shit, Christian_. I just cheated on him. Didn’t I?

I hear Kate laughing lightly and sit up out of sheer curiosity.

“You are a sight to behold, Steele,” she giggles. She stands and eyes my crotch, making me shift uncomfortably. “Pretty good job, if I do say so myself.”

She’s back to her old, non-flirting-with-Ana self. Did I just imagine that whole thing? Nope, I’m still spasming down there from the aftershocks of my orgasm. _Kate’s_ orgasm. She _gave_ it to me.

I manage to find something vaguely resembling my voice. “Should we, uh, talk about what just happened?” I squeak.

Completely nonchalant, Kate begins to gather the waxing supplies. “Hey, Ana, don’t be embarrassed.” _Embarrassed?_ “Some girls are just really sensitive. I won’t tell anyone that you’re so easily excitable. It happens to the best of us. When we were on vacation in Santa Barbara a couple years ago, I came while riding a tandem bike with my brother.” She laughs and does the heeby-jeeby dance. Is she pretending she wasn’t an active participant in what just happened? “What can I say? It was a cobblestone street. Hey, tell Christian ‘you’re welcome’ from me when you see him tonight, okay?” she says casually as she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

I flop back on the bed, exasperated. _What the fuck just happened?_

I touch my skin down there. It is incredibly sensitive, that’s true. But it’s also so freaking smooth! I get up and walk to the mirror, holding the hem of my t-shirt up to see. 

Yep, that’s pretty hot. “You’re welcome, Christian” indeed.


	13. Signature Dish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana and Christian have dinner at the Heathman Hotel and she spills the beans about her and Kate.

**Chapter 13**

**Signature Dish**

* * *

 

Not gonna lie, I avoid Kate the rest of the day. It’s not super hard to do, though. I think she may be avoiding me, too.

I’m still grappling with what happened this morning. I don’t know what it means for me, what it means for us, or, quite frankly, what it means for me and Christian Grey. 

My mind keeps coming back to that one line in the contract:

_The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant._

Shit. Strictly speaking, I haven’t broken any rules at all yet because I haven’t signed the contract. But really, I think that’s just a technicality at this point. We both know I’m going to sign tonight at dinner.

I hope.

Kate picked out my dress and shoes for the evening on Monday. The dress is a plum-colored silk number with a deep scoop back. It’s fairly short and hugs my curves closely. I definitely won’t be able to wear a bra with it.

I spend about twenty minutes after my shower blow drying my hair, which is something I never do, then applying eyeliner, mascara, blush, shadow — the whole nine yards — before getting dressed. 

Now comes the big decision: panties.

I take off my bathrobe and stand staring into the black hole that is my underwear drawer. Pretty much the only pair of acceptable sexy underwear I had were the ones Christian destroyed on our first date. I’m going to have to remedy that situation soon. But there’s no time tonight. I check my alarm clock. It’s already 6pm. I need to get a move on or I’ll be late. Something tells me Christian Grey does not take kindly to tardiness.

I slip my feet into Kate’s nude “fuck me” pumps while I debate. Most everything is cotton and old. A few pairs of hipsters, some boy shorts, a couple of thongs, and more granny panties than I care to admit (What? They’re comfortable!). There’s one possibility, but I’m quite sure they would give me VPL – visible panty lines – which simply won’t do.

I walk back over to the dress and catch a glimpse of myself in my full-length mirror. _Damn_. I look pretty hot in nothing but Kate’s platform stilettos, especially now that I’m slick as a whistle. Turning slightly, I consider my rear end. The heels make me flex some special hotness muscles in my legs and my ass looks good. Better than good. It looks great. I look great.

A smile spreads across my lips. Skipping the panties would certainly make things move slightly quicker.

I wind up having to drive Wanda, my old beat-up Beetle, barefoot. It’s impossible to drive stick shift with 4 1/2” heels. That’s for damn sure.

When I arrive at the Heathman, a full fifteen minutes early I’d like to point out, I hand off my keys to the valet guy. I think he might have been in my discussion group for Chemistry freshman year. I smile briefly at him and slip on my shoes before heading inside. I feel his eyes on my ass and my confidence soars. 

Christian Grey is propped up against the bar looking delectable. He’s in a black linen suit, white linen shirt, and a black tie. I feel a wetness between my thighs and suddenly wonder if going commando was such a good idea. I might wind up just soiling this dress.

When he sees me at the entrance to the bar, I watch his eyes drift slowly down to my shoes then back up to my face, his smile growing all along. I shift slightly, trying to be sexy, but honestly, the slipperiness on the insides of my thighs is so distracting. I start to worry that something will start dripping down my leg as I walk over to him as gracefully as I can. Thankfully he meets me halfway, wrapping a hand around my waist and kissing me lightly on the cheek. I nearly melt.

“Miss Steele, you look incredible,” he murmurs in my ear before taking me by the elbow and leading me up a set of stairs. “I booked us a private dining room,” he says, as a young man opens a door for us. 

It’s clearly intended to be a party venue — there’s room in here for probably twenty people to eat dinner comfortably, but there’s only one small table in the room. The walls are dark wood and there’s three beautiful antique mirrors hung high enough on the walls that you can see yourself when standing but not while seated. Christian releases me momentarily and pulls out my chair. I smile demurely at him and smooth my dress under me as I sit. He drapes my napkin over my lap, lightly grazing the top of my thigh with his fingers. 

Yep, this dress is going to get ruined.

He takes his seat opposite me and puts his napkin in his lap before beckoning the young man over. “What would you like to drink, Anastasia?” he asks.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I’m really trying my best to be a well-behaved sub. Maybe I’m just trying to act sweet before I drop the news that I’ve been fooling around with Kate. Is that what I should call it?

He eyes me for a moment, a sexy smolder that makes me shift in my seat slightly.

“Two glasses of Sancerre, please,” he says, not looking at the waiter. “Anastasia, do you know what you’d like to eat?” he says, motioning for the waiter to stay.

I smile slightly. “I’ll have what you’re having, sir.”

Christian narrows his eyes and nearly growls. He speaks softly to the waiter, murmuring some complicated order I can’t quite hear. The waiter turns and walks out. Just as he reaches the doorway, Christian says, “Oh, and please close the door.” I hear a soft click behind me and know we’re completely alone.

“So,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows. “The contract.”

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Come,” Christian commands, and the waiter comes hurrying back in with our wine. I take a sip and it’s delicious — crisp and light. Just what I was looking for. I have to seriously watch myself that I don’t overdo it on the drinking, though.

I hear the soft click of the door closing and lean forward onto my elbows as well. “Yes, the contract.”

Christian smiles slowly at me then sits up. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two copies of the contract, handing them both to me. He then produces a beautiful fountain pen.

“Please, look over it again, but I do so hope you’ll sign before the appetizers arrive.” He looks serious, all hints of his smile disappeared.

I’ve read this, the updated contract, three times since he sent it to me. I’ve practically memorized it. There’s only one sentence that poses any problem at all. I guess I have to tell him. It’s now or never.

I put the pen down on top of the two copies of the contract and sit up straight. I take a large gulp of wine.

“Mr. Grey, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you regarding the ‘Personal Qualities’ clause in Appendix 1.”

He looks a bit perplexed. “Personal Qualities?”

“Yes, it says, ‘The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant. The Submissive will conduct herself in a respectful and modest manner at all times. She must recognize that her behavior is a direct reflection on the Dominant. She shall be held accountable for any misdeeds, wrongdoings, and misbehavior committed when not in the presence of the Dominant.’” Yeah, I guess I do have it memorized.

He smiles at me again. “Alright, Miss Steele. I have to say, I’m impressed by your capacity for memorization. I will have to keep that in mind moving forward. Now what exactly is it you take issue with? Is it the modesty thing, because that’s not really that uncommon. I don’t want other men ogling you while I’m not there and...”

I cut him off. I know it’s disrespectful, but I don’t know that I’ll be able to spit it out if I don’t do it right now.

“Kate Kavanagh made me come today,” I nearly shout.

Christian can only be described as stunned right now. His jaw is slightly agape, a blank look on his face.

“Mr. Grey?” I say. I can feel the flush in my face. Words cannot describe how embarrassed I feel right now. I need him to react in some way so I can move on to any other emotion — anger, resentment, relief — anything! I can’t take the embarrassment any longer.

“You do not cease to surprise, Miss Steele.” His eyebrows raise and there’s a fiery look in his eyes. Is he mad? Is he turned on? I really truly cannot tell. I’m starting to think that maybe it’s both. “I didn’t realize you were bisexual.”

“I’m not! I mean, I don’t _think_ I am. Or I didn’t think I was. Or...”

“Hm,” he says. “Do you like oysters, Anastasia?”

Oysters?

There’s a soft knock at the door and our waiter comes floating in, carrying a large silver tray loaded with ice and oysters. He sets it in front of us, then leaves nearly silently.

I sputter, trying to find my voice. “I’ve never had one.”

“Have you ever tasted a woman’s vagina?”

I blush crimson and simply shake my head. I can’t even look at him right now.

“It tastes just like that.” He reaches out and grabs one, lifting it to his lips. I stare. He tips it back and swallows it whole. “Mm, yes. Except _you_ , Miss Steele, taste slightly sweeter.” He smiles. “Just let it slide down your throat and then swallow. As I recall, you have no problem with that.” I blush even further — he’s definitely talking about my deep-throating abilities.

I bite my lip and shakily grab the oyster closest to me. “Put some lemon juice on it,” he advises. I do as he instructs. “Now lift it to your lips and tip your head back.” I feel a tickle as it slides over my tongue and down my throat. It tastes incredible and musky. My mind goes back to what he said about a woman’s vagina. If it tastes like that...

“Well?”

“I like it,” I say, reaching for another.

His eyes narrow further and part of me is a little scared. I try to ignore it and have another oyster and a long sip of wine. Christian refills my glass.

“Were you in a relationship with Miss Kavanagh before you met me?”

“No, I’m not in a relationship with Kate. We’re just friends.”

“But she made you come?”

I hesitate. “Yes.”

“Please, Miss Steele, enlighten me.” He is pissed. I knew it. The ire in his voice is rising. He downs another oyster before continuing. “How did she make you come?”

I shift slightly in my seat, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. I take another sip of wine. “Well, I was going to surprise you later,” I murmur.

“Tell me now.” Okay, he may be mad, but he _does_ seem surprised. 

I check the door briefly to make sure no one is coming. I stand up and walk over to Christian. He looks horrendously confused. I force myself to look in his eyes while I lift the hem of my borrowed dress.

I watch his eyes open widely in wonder and see his sharp intake of breath. A deep rumble sounds through his chest and he runs his hand up the inside of my thigh.

“Oh, Miss Steele, you do enjoy making me jealous, don’t you?” he mutters, letting his fingers linger around my opening, smooth and sensitive. “Did she touch you like this?”

_Oh god!_ Are we really going to do this with me standing in front of him with my skirt hitched up around my hips?

Still, I nod silently.

“Tell me what she did, Ana.”

_Ana!_

My body reacts to the sound of my name on his lips. “She, uh, she waxed me.”

“I can see that, Miss Steele. Did you enjoy it?”

I gulp. “Yes, I did.”

“Did it hurt?” His finger probes my folds and I feel unsteady on my feet.

“Yes, sir.”

“But you enjoyed it.” It’s not a question. I nod anyway. “Good. She did an excellent job. I’ll have to compliment her on her handiwork later.” He lets a finger slide into me slowly. “Did you come while she was waxing you?”

“No, sir.” I can hardly breath. I grab onto the back of Christian’s chair with one hand and the edge of the table with the other. “She, she...”

He adds another finger into me and I moan slightly. “What did she do, Anastasia?”

“Lotion,” I can only get the one word out.

“So she rubbed you with her hands,” he breathes. “With her fingers.” He drives his fingers into me over and over again. I feel myself getting painfully close. “Did she fuck you with her fingers?”

I shake my head no. No, she did not.

“Good. This,” he pulls me to him with those fingers. “This,” he nearly takes his fingers out then roughly pumps back in. “ _This_ _is_ _mine._ ” He adds another finger and pounds into me once more. Full, I feel myself teetering at the edge of a massive orgasm. He stills completely. “Do you understand?”

I nod.

“Good.” He takes his hand away and smoothes my skirt back down. “Now go sit down.” He gives me a solid smack on the ass when I turn towards my seat.

I hobble over and gingerly set my tender self into my seat. Just then there’s a knock at the door and our waiter comes rushing in, taking the oysters away and setting plates of roast duck in front of us. My breath is ragged as I watch Christian lick his fingers — right in front of the waiter! 

“Mm, yes, definitely sweeter,” he says with a satisfied grin. I’m sure I’m ten shades of scarlet. “Don’t disturb us again,” he calls quietly.

“Of course, Mr. Grey,” the waiter says.

The door clicks and we’re alone once more.

Christian leans forward again, serious. “I hope you understand that I am not pleased.” He starts in on his duck, not looking up at me. This is the first time he’s avoided eye contact with me. “So did you want to discuss this because you broke that rule or for some other reason?”

I take a long draught of my wine. “I’m worried I’ll do it again.” My voice is barely more than a whisper.

He doesn’t look up. “With Kate?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you want to?”

I take another sip of my wine. I can feel the effects of it already. “I don’t know.”

He stops, his fork an inch from his mouth, and looks up finally. “You don’t have to sign this contract, Ana. You can walk away now, no harm done.”

“I _want_ to sign,” I blurt out spontaneously, not thinking. Then I realize it’s true. I _do_ want to sign. I want to be his submissive. God, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.

“But?” He sounds like a lost boy again for a moment and I remember the fear in his voice the first time we fucked. It terrifies me.

“But I think I also want to,” I stop and take another huge gulp of wine. I pour myself more. I take another long sip then the words just flow out of me like projectile word vomit. “Something’s happening with me and Kate. I don’t understand it and I don’t know what it is, but I know that I like it and it scares me and it’s hot and,” I stop again and meet his eyes. “Do you remember the dream I told you about?”

His eyes widen.

“I was tied to the chair, and you cut your underwear off me and then I was naked.” Oh shit, he looks furious. “You promised you wouldn’t get mad.”

“When did I say that?”

“I said I’d tell you about the dream if you promised not to get mad. I’m telling you about the dream. So,” I realize my logic is flawed too late.

“I will try not to get mad. It was a dream. You cannot control that.” He takes a deep breath and another sip of wine, refilling his own glass now.

“Well, you were trying to figure out how to punish me and then Kate was there and then you,” I hesitate. I take another drink. “You started fooling around with Kate then she,” another drink. “She fucked me while you fucked her and we all came together.” Damn this wine is good. “It was amazing and I am not going to apologize for it.”

I look at Christian but his glare is unreadable.

“Give me the contracts, Ana,” he murmurs throatily. _Shit_.

I hand them to him.

“And the pen,” he holds out his hand. I hesitate a moment before giving it to him.

This is it, this is the end. I will never see this man again. I’ve fucked it all up. I stare at my hands, unsure of what to do next.

“Here,” he says.

I look up and he’s handing them back to me. The two copies and his pen.

“You’re going to read it, you’re going to sign it, then I’m going to take you upstairs and fuck your brains out.” The tears that have been threatening for the last five minutes burn in my eyes. 

I flip through the pages then I find it. Right there, under “Personal Qualities”, he’s crossed out the first sentence and in neat black letters he’s written:

~~The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant.~~ _The Submissive must have explicit approval before engaging in sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant._

I beam back at him and sign my name on the dotted line.

“I thought I told you not to bite your lip, Miss Steele,” Christian says with a wicked sneer.


	14. For Your First Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Ana has signed the contract, Christian gives her another couple of firsts.

**Chapter 14**

**For Your First Challenge**

* * *

 

My eyes shoot up to his. I had no idea I was biting my lip. I guess I just do it unconsciously.

Christian stands up from his seat, dropping his napkin on the table and walks slowly toward me. He positions himself directly behind my chair. I can feel my pulse quickening at our proximity. He leans over me, his cheek almost touching mine, and takes the pen from my hand. He signs his name on the line below my signature on both copies.

Christian Grey.

He tosses the pen on top of the documents and leans both hands on the edge of the table. His hot breath against my ear sends shivers down my spine.

“You’re all mine now, Miss Steele,” he growls softly then bites my earlobe. Hard. I gasp at the pain and the pleasure of it.

He bites into my neck and down to my shoulder, leaving behind a trail of fire. I moan softly and lean my head away, giving him purchase.

“Miss Steele, I don’t suppose you’ve ever been restrained during sex before, hm?” I think he knows the answer to that one.

In a moment, he’s wrapped my hair around his wrist and has pulled it back almost painfully. “Answer me,” he seethes. I can see a complete change in his demeanor. He’s serious. He’s Dom Christian.

“No, I haven’t, sir.”

He relaxes his grip and smoothes my hair down my back gently.

“Stand up.”

I stand up and place my napkin on the table.

He hands me a room keycard. “Suite 1001. I want you sitting on the leather couch in ten minutes.” And like that he leaves the room. 

I’m left standing panting and dripping wet alone in the dining room. Before I even have time to panic, our waiter returns with a note for me. He busies himself cleaning up the table while I open it. It only has one line of text in Christian’s neat hand:

Wear only the shoes.

It’s all I can do to keep from moaning out loud. I check my watch quickly. I’m guessing I only have about eight minutes left. Quick as I can in these heels, I scurry out of the room.

Christian is nowhere to be found, but that’s not really surprising. What _is_ surprising is that I feel his eyes on me. Somewhere. He’s somewhere. I don’t have time to focus on that. I carefully descend the stairs back into the main bar area and head for the lobby.

Once I’m back on the marble floor, I have to watch my step more carefully. The upstairs and the bar are both old hard wood so I didn’t have to worry as much about slipping. I’m worried I’m going to lose my footing and break a bone in these heels. I finally reach the elevators and press the “up” button, checking my watch. I have just five minutes. Shit.

The elevator is not nearly as fast as I’d like it to be. This will give me no prep time once I’m in the suite. Finally, _finally_ , the doors open on the tenth floor. I see Suite 1001 at the end of the hall and practically run to it. Two minutes. I _of course_ fumble with the keycard but finally manage to get the door open.

Thankfully I’ve been in this suite before. Otherwise, I’d be losing time ogling at the size of it. Hell, I didn’t realize it had a second bathroom when I was here last time! Jeez.

I disrobe as I walk, peeling my dress off and folding it neatly before leaving it on a chair in the corner. If our phone sex session the other night was any indication, Christian does not take kindly to clothes being strewn about. After taking off my necklace and putting it on the desk, I seat myself on the leather couch and check my watch. Less than a minute left. I cross my legs and and put my hands on my knees.

The couch faces the bed, so the door is behind me. Now I get to play the waiting game.

I suck at the waiting game.

I check my watch again. It’s only been a couple minutes.

I put my hand back on my knee and look straight forward. I’m sure this is how Christian wants me to sit. Eyes straight ahead, a demure look on my face, legs crossed.

Or maybe knees together?

I shift.

Maybe knees apart.

I shift again. Hm, I don’t think I can sit with my crotch on display until he arrives. I try knees together again. I put my hands on my lap but decide it’s too much like I’m trying to hide myself and put them back on my knees.

Looking straight ahead, I really don’t have much to look at. Just the bed. It’s a huge California King with a big corona of a sun for the headboard and restraining points on each of the corners.

Wait, restraining points? Those weren’t there last time.

I hear the door open and my pulse quickens. I’d just caught my breath from hurrying up here and like that it’s labored again. Even though the temptation to turn around and look at him is so great, I stay completely still and stare at the bed. 

And the bedside table. Which has a vibrator on it. It’s the same exact one as Kate gave me. Billie. Or, as Christian calls it, _Little Katie_.

There’s that familiar tug deep down in my groin and I feel a wetness spreading on the leather. It feels sinful just sitting like this.

I hear Christian moving around, opening drawers, shifting things around. Then music. It’s some classical piece that sounds familiar but I can’t identify. It’s mixed with a techno beat underneath. With the music blasting, I can’t even hear him moving around anymore. It’s driving me crazy this anticipation. I shift slightly in my seat, sitting up a little straighter so the firm edge of the couch touches me just so.

“Ah, Miss Steele, remember the rule about self-pleasure?” His voice sounds right behind me and I nearly jump. I blush and scooch back on the couch slightly.

He appears in front of me wearing a pair of worn-in jeans with the top button open. He’s shirtless and shoeless and I feel everything in me tighten at the sight.

“Although I am disappointed you did not follow my instructions fully, Miss Steele, you pleased me by getting here on time.”

My eyes dart up to his questioningly. What didn’t I do correctly? I’m sitting on the couch, I conducted myself in a modest manner on my way up, I was here on time...

“You’re wearing a watch, Miss Steele.”

Shit. He’s right. He said only the shoes. I drop my gaze and chastise myself. I was trying so hard, too. It takes all I have to not immediately apologize, but I know I shouldn’t speak.

“Give me your wrist,” he commands.

I oblige, holding out my left hand so he can remove the offending watch. _Stupid, stupid, stupid Ana._ Deftly, his fingers turn my hand so my palm faces up then unbuckles my watch strap, letting his fingers linger on the inside of my wrist. It sends goosebumps up my arm.

Pulling me gently by the hand, he leads me to the desk in the corner, where he sets my watch down next to the keycard and my necklace. Then he leads me to the foot of the bed and has me sit on the edge.

“I know you tried, Anastasia. That pleases me.”

I smile slightly, staring at my hands in his. His are so much bigger.

“Look at me, Ana.” 

I lift my eyes to his and feel that spark immediately. I let a small sigh escape my lips and I see a smile pulling the corners of his mouth.

“Do you remember your safe words?”

I nod slowly.

“You may speak.”

“Yellow and red, sir.”

“Very good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“Yes, Mr. Grey.”

There’s a quiet rumble in his chest. “Good.” He drops my hand and stands back slightly. “Stand up and face the bed.” 

I do as I’m told and he takes my hand again. I look over but he grumbles incomprehensibly and I lower my eyes again. I feel a leather strap wrap around my wrist and tighten to near-painfulness. “Is that too tight, Miss Steele?”

“No, Mr. Grey.”

“Good,” he says as he moves to the other side. “Put your face down on the bed, Anastasia.” The restraints are low, about hip height, and once I’ve laid my head on the bed, I can just stretch far enough for him to secure the other restraint. There’s no moving from this position. I’m bent over further than I was when he spanked and fucked me the first time — my head is a few inches lower than my hips.

There’s a long moment where nothing happens then he slides in behind me. I feel the heat of him against my legs and his hardness, rough in his jeans, against my ass. “You look edible, Miss Steele.”

I whimper slightly. It’s all I can do. My vagina is pulsating. He slides a hand between up and spreads my ass cheeks apart, examining me. I feel more naked than I ever have in my life right in this moment.

“Miss Kavanagh really did a phenomenal job, Miss Steele.” I feel his fingers pulling and pulling me apart, I’m starting to worry I might split in two. The feeling is heady. “I am so looking forward to claiming your ass.”

I can’t help it, my knees buckle for a moment, but Christian hooks his fingers under my hips and pulls me back up almost immediately. “Careful you don’t fall over, Miss Steele. We couldn’t have that, now could we?” Slowly he starts stroking me along my ass now that I’m more stable. He presses his crotch into mine and a jagged moan escapes my lips.

“I am torn, Miss Steele.” I feel a slight chill as he steps back from me, but almost immediately a hand is playing with my clit, his thumb sliding into my opening just barely and pressing down in a dizzying way. “On the one hand, I want to reward you. You are trying very hard to be an excellent sub, which pleases me. And you signed the contract, which pleases me immensely.” His hand’s movements quicken and I begin panting loudly.

“On the other hand,” he says, pulling his hand away. I almost whine but manage to control myself. Barely. “You made me compromise greatly on this Katherine Kavanagh issue and should be punished.”

_Smack smack smack smack!_ In quick succession I feel the shock of four quick hard slaps on the ass. I muffle my screams, turning my face into the comforter of the bed.

His hands are back, the one soothing my ass, the other resuming its ministrations on my sex.

“I think I’ll go ahead with my original plan and save your reprimand for later,” he says finally and pulls both hands away. This time I can’t rein in my whine before it escapes my lips, not even muffled by the bedspread. There’s a soft chuckle from Christian.

“Now I know you’ve never received oral sex and that is really a crime. I want to know before we continue if you are ready for some anal play?”

I think for a moment, terrified. _Am I ready for this? What in god’s name have I gotten myself into?_

“You may speak.”

“Whatever sir wants.” That’s the closest thing to non-committal I could come up with. Maybe he’ll take the hint that I’m not really ready.

“Good,” he says, and I feel him spread my cheeks once again. He kneels down behind me and I hear him breathe in deeply, smelling me. I shift slightly on my feet, self-conscious.

“Anastasia,” he says softly. I feel the soft, hot wetness of his tongue lick just next to my pussy and I moan. “This is a time,” he says, licking the other side. “That I want you to be,” he pauses to lick me very slowly right down the center, letting his tongue penetrate me just slightly. A long groan escapes me and my eyes roll back in my skull. Jesus, that feels incredible. “Very vocal.” 

His mouth closes around my clit and sucks gently, letting the flat of his tongue press gently against my core. I can’t think, I can hardly stand, and the sounds I’m making are ridiculous. I sound like a dying horse.

He hums and my body convulses. I don’t think I’m quite at an orgasm yet, but it’s like I just had a mini one. I can barely catch my breath as his nose pushes against my opening and his tongue flicks my clit over and over again.

Instinctively, I arch my back slightly and start rocking my hips, riding his face. He swats my backside sharply with one hand and I stop. Still with his lips on me, he says, “You must stay still, Anastasia, or I will change my well-laid plans and punish you.” The movement and his breath make me scream. Maybe it’s gibberish, maybe it’s swear words. I have no idea. “God, you are so responsive.”

Slowly he runs the tip of his tongue from my mound, around my clit twice, up my vagina, dipping inside twice, and then keeps going. When he reaches the backside of my vagina, he nibbles gently on the little bit of flesh there between it and my ass.

“Holy shit!”

With it in his teeth, he laughs softly. _Fuck fuck fuck._ Why does that feel so good? He lets his fingers play with my clit as he repeats the process, starting low and working his way up, this time with little flicks of his tongue playfully along the way. His thumb enters me again, pressing forward on that rough spot I discovered during our cybersex session last night. He fucks me with his thumb and his tongue, one pushing at the front and the other pulling at the back. I feel full and empty at the same time, when another of those mini-orgasms washes over me. I’m pulling against my restraints, which seems to intensify everything. There’s something glorious about handing over all the control to this man that I trust inherently.

“Sir, please,” I moan. I am so close to a full release. I just need something. Him to speed up or slow down or...

He slides his mouth up further and licks my asshole, flicking it before plunging his tongue inside.

Everything becomes sensation as I orgasm over and over again, bucking and spasming wildly, pulling my restraints over and over again. I call his name loudly, “Mister Grey!”


	15. Benefits of Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana learns more about what being a sub can do for her.

**Chapter 15**

**Benefits of Submission**

* * *

 

I’ve barely come down from my orgasm, the feel of his fingers on my sex and his tongue in my ass lingering, when I hear the rip of foil.

“Anastasia, I’m going to fuck you now,” he says quietly, running his fingers over the cheek of my ass, up my spine, soothing me. “If it becomes too much, you will safeword.”

“Yes, sir.” I am spent and don’t see how I could be any more tired. Another aftershock rips through my body, nearly making my knees buckle. 

“Good girl.”

He slams into me with a force that pushes my face hard into the mattress. My shoulders strain from the pressure of my splayed arms, and I cry out in shock.

He stills momentarily, then achingly slow, he pulls back. I feel the wonderful discomfort of his head straining against my opening, nearly pulling out completely. He lingers there for a long moment, eliciting a low moan from my chest before slamming back into me. Another cry, this time louder.

“Fuck, Miss Steele, you are so tight.” 

I’m hoping that’s a good thing. It makes me feel depraved, trussed up, moaning, with him talking dirty to me as he fucks me. But I think it’s depraved in a good way. My sex is overripe, hypersensitive, and every movement of skin against skin is both uncomfortable and completely arousing at once. The fabric of his jeans chafes against my thighs, rubbing me raw.

His hands hold my hips roughly as he pumps in and out at his slow-fast slow-fast rhythm. I can’t help but moan gutturally the whole time. He continues his unrelenting assault until I can feel myself building again. 

“Good, Ana. Tell me how it feels.”

I’m supposed to form words now? “Fuck,” is all I can eek out.

He laughs gently. “Please be more descriptive,” he says, slowing down.

“Oh god, Mr. Grey... I feel,” I search for a word as he eases himself into me. The slowness is maybe worse than the pounding. Or better? Are they the same thing? “Full. Stretched. Just don’t stop.” I gasp at another hard thrust. “Don’t stop, please.”

“Are you enjoying being my sub?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me when this becomes too much.”

 _When_ this becomes too much?

Christian’s grip tightens on my hip as he takes one hand away. That’s when I hear a soft buzzing. _Shit, Little Katie!_

“Oh fuck.”

He slows his tempo again, easing in and out of me. It leaves me with an aching need for more. And boy, do I get more.

Christian presses the vibrator into the soft flesh on the inside of my right thigh and ever so slowly inches it upwards. I pull lamely against my restraints again. It just makes my shoulders hurt and my breasts jiggle.

“I’m going to start on the lowest speed, but I’m going to increase it slowly.” I grunt as he slides into me again. “If you say ‘yellow’, I will stop with the vibrator entirely. ‘Red’ and I will stop completely and untie you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, unh...” I grunt again as he slams into me hard this time. “Yes, Mr. Grey.”

“Good. Now, if you say ‘green’, I won’t change the settings and will continue what I’m doing and bring us both to climax.” He draws out of me at a glacial pace. “Do you understand, Anastasia?”

I nod, letting out a soft moan. “I do, sir.”

This time, when his dick creeps in, he presses the vibrator firmly into my clit, giving me another of those mini-orgasms. I scream at the top of my lungs as a spasm rolls through my groin.

He presses the vibrator into me in rhythm with his thrusts, which become more forceful as the speed of the vibrator increases. I hear myself begging — for what, I’m not sure — without being aware of actually doing it.

Finally the rush of blood in my ears is all I can hear. Christian is pounding me at an unrelenting pace, as fast as my heartbeat, and the vibrator makes me tremble, my clit is so swollen. I can’t stand anymore. I think I’m going to die. Yep, death by pleasure. Or maybe pain. Nope, definitely pleasure.

“Stop, please,” I pant. I don’t think I can deal with these sensations anymore. I need a minute — to drink some water, to breathe, to think.

The vibe picks up speed again and he curves it down slightly, changing the angle. I can feel the vibrations in my bones. I try to scream, but all that comes out is a hoarse sigh. 

“Ana, if you really want me to stop, you have to use your safewords.”

Safewords? I can barely remember my own name, let alone the safewords! 

All the while, Christian’s thrusts are coming quicker and harder I feel like I’m going to split in two. I feel him hitting the end of my sex and it’s painful in a way that I find satisfying and scary as hell. His fingers dig into my flesh, holding me upright, and the vibrator keeps picking up speed. I wonder briefly if there’s an upper limit on this thing.

 I find my voice and my words, screaming, “Green!”

He growls behind me and pounds into me again and again. Everything about his touch is magic. “Good, Ana. Just give yourself over to sensation. Don’t overthink it,” he grumbles, hammering into me with force.

I need something to hold on to, but I can’t grab anything my hands are completely useless to me right now. For want of a better option, I bite hard into the coverlet and scream for all I’m worth.

He changes angles again and my vision goes blurry. His entire length is vibrating slightly in rhythm with the toy. With that small shift, I come, screaming, as his dick swells slightly. He pumps into me hard three times, spaced out, straining me open.

My muscles are still flexing in a crazy pattern when he pulls out and tosses the condom into the trash before untying me. I nearly collapse, but his hands hold me steady.

Gently, he lifts me and sets me on the bed. The tenderness of his touch is so contrary to the slamming, driving pace of our fucking that I can’t stifle my laugh. His fingers rub my arms and wrists, restoring feeling to my hands, massaging and caressing. 

“You were spectacular, Anastasia,” he whispers in my ear, gently biting it, sending another aftershock through my system.

With great effort, I reach a hand up and touch his cheek. I watch his stormy gray eyes as I kiss him slowly. “You’re not so bad, yourself, sir.”

He kisses me again, longer, deeper than before, watching me the whole time. It’s intimidating as all hell, but erotic in a way I can’t quite describe. 

“‘Not so bad,’ Miss Steele?” His soft touch on my wrists shifts as he pins my hands under my back. “Are you quite sure?” He slides on top of me and presses his entire weight into my body, spreading my legs, and holding me in place. “I think you’ll find I’m very bad.”


	16. The Name of the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana learns more about Control.

I’m finding it harder and harder to catch my breath as his kisses become more ferocious. I can tell he’s hard again as he presses into me. My entire body sinks slowly into the softness of the mattress. He kisses me again, hard, at the same time pinching, pulling, and twisting my right nipple, causing me to moan into his mouth.

“It may be time for your punishment, Anastasia,” he murmurs, pulling back from my mouth, but taking my left nipple in his other hand and forcing out another deep sigh from me.

“I don’t think it should be too terrible,” he says, letting his fingernails pull harshly against the soft flesh just below each nipple, the underside of my breasts. “But it should teach you a bit of self control.”

In an instant, I’m left cold. Christian is on his feet and I go to reach for him.

“ _Control_ , Miss Steele,” he says harshly, turning to me. I still myself and put my hand behind my back again. “Good.”

He grasps my ankles and tugs at them, sliding me down the bed. With quick, practiced movements, he lengthens the restraints at the foot of the bed slightly and ties my ankles to them, spreading my legs further in the process. They’re slightly further than shoulder width apart, making my sex pulse slightly at the exposure and my high heels dig into the blanket.

“Is that comfortable?” he asks. 

 _Ha, that’s hilarious._ But I nod anyway. I know he’s asking about how tight the cuffs are.

“Not too comfortable I hope,” he says with a devilish smile. I smile back and shake my head. “Good,” he says. “I want you to stay just like that, Miss Steele.”

The temptation to move is overwhelming and I find myself squirming to find a more comfortable position for my hands. Christian frowns at me. “I almost forgot,” he says, walking to the foot of the bed. He wraps his hands around my thighs and pulls me even further down on the mattress so my shoes are flat on the bed and my knees are up in the air. My ankles are spread just as wide as before, but my sex feels stretched, aching with emptiness in this new position. I feel the _lack_ of his touch clawing at me and moan softly. “Hold onto your shoes,” he says.

I do as I’m told, reaching down to grab the heels of my shoes, making my spine arch slightly. I hear his groan of approval as my hips shift and my breasts push up. 

“Very nice, Miss Steele.” I feel his eyes on my skin as he takes in the length of my body. “I want you to stay exactly like this.” My muscles tremble slightly but I nod. Hopefully this isn’t for too long.

He walks over to the phone on the bedside table and dials a couple digits, putting it on speaker. He climbs onto the bed and straddles my torso while the phone rings. His stiff cock is so close to my mouth I could lick it.

“Kiss it,” he orders, and I do, craning my neck to reach. “Good,” he says, grabbing my hair and sliding himself into my mouth as someone picks up the phone.

“How may we be of service, Mr. Grey?”

He smiles down at me and presses himself deep into my mouth, down my throat, letting me suck him as hard as I can. 

“Very good,” he says to me. Then to the phone, “I’d like to order some room service, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Grey, what can we get for you?”

His pace picks up as he fucks my mouth. I’m taking him deeper and deeper, his hand buried in my hair, helping me. I try desperately not to buck on the bed, I’m so turned on. A small gasp escapes me around his cock as his free hand reaches behind him and scratches gruffly along my breast, surely leaving red marks.

“I would like some ginger tea and a bucket of ice, please.”

“Right away, Mr. Grey.”

He pulls his cock away and starts stroking it with his hand, letting his other roam further down until it finds that sweet spot between my thighs.

“Anastasia, tell them what you would like,” he says teasingly as I sigh inaudibly.

I panic, struggling to find my voice. “Uh, I’m good,” I manage, afraid to attempt saying anything too complicated at this point lest it come out as a “ _Please just fuck me now!_ ”

He smiles and slides two fingers inside of me, sitting on my hips, pinning them to the bed, still working his length. “Nonsense, Anastasia, you were _just_ telling me how hungry you were.” 

His thumb circles my clit as I start to speak, the bastard. The first word comes out as a moan. “Ohhh, I don’t know,” I say, my voice trembling. “I guess I could use something to fill me up,” I smirk at him.

I hope the concierge can’t hear the sexually explicit sound of his fingers sliding in and out of me as his pace increases slightly. “You can have whatever you like, Ana,” he says. “My treat.”

“Ah, ice cream,” I moan. I really don’t think I can keep this up. I am definitely about to come, but I know I can’t cover that up over the phone. “Any flavor, I don’t care. Just come quick.”

“Quite right, Mrs. Grey,” the man on the phone says. I feel Christian stiffen at the name. He pounds into me harder and I can see he’s about to come, too. “We’ll have that up to you as quickly as possible. Will there be anything else, Mr. Grey?”

“No,” he barks then pulls his hand from me to hit the phone, ending the call. I whimper from the sudden loss of his touch, but before I can be reprimanded, he shoves his cock back into my mouth, hooking his fingers through my hair, pulling it roughly. “Do you like this?”

I do my best to nod, but give up and simply try to communicate my agreement with my eyes on his.

“Suck harder, Ana.” He releases my hair and twists both my nipples as he comes in my mouth. I swallow it down then let out a guttural moan, his throbbing dick still hard in my mouth.

“Oh, you’re so good at this, _Mrs. Grey_ ,” he says with a smirk.

He climbs off me, tweaking my nipples one more time before pulling his jeans on and walking to the doorway. “Stay just like that until I return.”

 _Until he returns?!_ How long is he going to leave me like this?

I want to shift again, to find purchase for the orgasm I was _so_ close to before Christian cut me short, but there’s no way. The openness of my legs mocks me, my juices flowing slowly down, leaving a damp puddle on the bedspread. Everything in me wants to move, but I stay completely still, measuring time by my breaths, trying to slow my racing heartbeat.

Despite myself, I feel myself becoming more and more excited. The more I struggle against moving, the more I want to move. The longer my legs stay open, the more I need friction against my center.

I can feel a hot flush covering all the skin on my body by the time the doorbell rings.

 _Shit!_ _Room service!_

The bed on which I am restrained and completely naked (other than my pumps) is in full view of the door to the suite. The bell rings again and I start to panic. What if they just let themselves in? 

Before I can formulate a plan for how to get out of the restraints, Christian saunters through the room and smiles approvingly at me. “Very good, Miss Steele.” He walks over to me slowly and slaps the underside of my left breast, making the skin turn even pinker and forcing a desperate moan out of me.

There’s a knock at the door. “Room service!” a young man calls from the hallway.

“Just a moment,” Christian calls lazily. He leans down and bites that same spot, making me moan louder. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Of course, Mr. Grey,” squeaks the room service guy.

“You must stay very still and very quiet, Miss Steele,” he says, moving his face down my torso, licking and biting along the way. I nod as best I can, and swallow down a shriek. He winds up kneeling on the floor with his face between my legs, his hand curling up and stroking the sensitive flesh below my belly button — the same spot Kate tickled Sunday. 

I tip my head back so I don’t have to look at him. I don’t think I can control myself right now if I do.

“Look at me, Anastasia,” he grumbles. He must have special mind reading powers. Slowly, I tilt my head and meet his eyes. There’s a fire there and a playfulness I haven’t seen before. Something tightens inside me and I nearly come right there.

“Oh, Anastasia, you’ve made a mess,” he teases quietly. “Maybe I should get housekeeping to come clean you up.”

“No!” I squeak before I can catch myself.

His eyes narrow on me and he stands back up. “I thought I told you to be quiet, Miss Steele.” _Oh god_ , I shiver to think what my punishment for this might be. “I will have to gag you next time. But for now,” he pulls Little Katie from his pocket, setting it to a bone shaking speed, then sets it about an inch from my skin on the bed, right between my legs. I can feel the vibrations through the mattress, but only slightly. Nothing to satisfy my need for touch, only to intensify my need.

“When I return, I will know if you’ve moved.” He leans over, his hands on my knees. “This is important. I have brought a cane with me. I do not want to use it today, but if you can’t behave yourself for five minutes, I will have to use it. I was really hoping we could work our way up to that, so please, for both our sakes, stay still. Do _not_ touch Little Katie.” He moves it just slightly closer, I can feel the air around my vagina hum, then he leans even closer and lands a tiny kiss right on my clit. My back arches, but I don’t shift, I don’t moan, I simply watch him walk out of the room and close the double doors between the bedroom and the foyer of the suite, leaving one just slightly ajar. 

Every part of my being wants to shift just the tiniest bit. That tiny kiss he planted on me has driven my desire into a frenzy and the sound of the vibe, the feel of it so close is pretty much making me crazy. 

I hear him open the front door and speak softly to the room service guy. They shift so Christian can let him into the suite, and suddenly I see them. _Shit!_ If I can see them, all the guy has to do is turn in my direction and he’ll see me spread like a puupuu platter. I start to panic again, the adrenaline mixing with the endorphins in my system to make my whole body tremble like a preteen with ADHD. 

They move into the next room, a small dining area next to the front door. I focus on my breathing to calm myself. I know that I’ve somehow wound up closer to the vibrator without even meaning to, and the fear of a caning is enough to _almost_ make me not care if this room service guy sees me. I really don’t want the snot beaten out of me.

I hear their voices grow louder again and despite my best efforts, the trembling returns. When they reappear, Christian’s imposing form blocks the doorway and stops. I know the guy is on the other side of him, his view of me blocked only by Christian’s broad chest. I feel my nerves calm slightly but then the room service guy stops, and they have a _fucking_ conversation. 

 _He’s doing this on purpose!_ is all I can think. 

Finally, after what seems like hours, the room service guy starts to leave, but Christian doesn’t move fast enough to block his view and for a split second, I see his face before he’s out of sight. I feel my entire body tighten, all the blood rushing out of me. I stay completely still though, embarrassment, anger, and fear restraining me just as much as the cuffs on my ankles.

I hear the front door close before Christian strides back in, looking entirely pleased with himself. He walks right up to me and clucks approvingly. “Very good, Miss Steele. I’m so glad you’ve learned a little obedience.”

“What the hell was that about?” I can’t stop myself before I’m screaming at him. I don’t move from my agonizing position, but I feel all the emotions, every bit of confusion I’ve felt in the last week boiling over. “He could have seen me! Is that what you want? To humiliate me?”

He stares at me for a moment, stunned no doubt. Then his face changes. But where I expected there to be contrition, there’s now anger.

“I would never let that...” He turns on the spot and runs his fingers through his hair. “What did you think that was about?” He turns back at me, pain coloring his face. “Don’t you trust me?”

 _Crap_. Trust. This was an exercise in trust. Self control, yes. But mainly, trust. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

My voice is tiny and unstable. “I didn’t... I didn’t think. I...”

He places one hand to the side of my hip on the bed, leaning over me. “When you are in my care, my every thought is of you — your safety, your well-being...” His other hand presses the vibrator slowly and easily into me, his eyes holding my own. “Your pleasure.” He stares at me, the vibrator the only thing touching me, pumping in and out, pushing tiny moans out of my open mouth. “I want every moment with me to be about your pleasure.” Continuing the in-and-out motion of the vibrator, he adds a swirl to the movement, circling around the edges of my vagina, opening me up, stretching my lips open. The sensations seem intensified by my inability to move. No, not inability. Obedience. I can move if I want, but Christian has asked me not to. He has asked me not to because he wants me to have pleasure.

“Show me your pleasure, Ana.” At his command, I come intensely and quietly, not moving at all as my vision goes black I pass out completely.

 


	17. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some snacks and some smacks.

I come to a few moments later, Christian cradling me in his arms. I’m unbound and under the covers.

“What happened?”

He smiles kindly down at me.

“You passed out.”

 _Passed out?_ My mind flies through the implications. I could have a heart problem or a blood pressure issue or...

Christian laughs gently at me. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be concerned about. The French have a name for this, it’s called _La Petite Morte_. It usually happens because you’re not getting quite enough blood to your brain.” He smiles widely. “It’s all concentrated... elsewhere.”

I blush crimson and snuggle into him slightly before catching myself. Christian stiffens beneath me, my face in his chest hair, before carefully extracting himself from me.

“Come eat some food, then you should get some sleep, Miss Steele. You have a big day tomorrow,” he says, walking out of the room and coming back with a super fluffy white bathrobe for me. I climb out of bed and don the robe. It’s luxurious in the way 1000-thread count sheets and silk underwear are. Having experienced these things since meeting Christian Grey, I can attest that they are the indulgences in life that seem unimportant until you finally try them. Then it’s hard to imagine how you did without them for so long.

We sit down to our ice cream and tea, probably the oddest room service order I’ve ever heard of, and I shoot him a quizzical look while stuffing a spoonful of salted caramel ice cream in my mouth. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about your own graduation.”

 _Fuck_. I’m graduating from college tomorrow. I stop completely, the spoon halfway to my open mouth, freaking out. 

“What time is it?” I ask quietly, still not moving.

“It’s a little after five a.m.” he says nonchalantly.

 _Holy shit!_ My father is supposed to _pick me up_ at my apartment in three and a half hours!

I drop my spoon completely, letting it clatter into the bowl, fling my chair back and stand, spinning in place, trying to figure out what my next step should be.

“Whoa, slow down, Anastasia.”

I stop and look at Christian, a deer in the headlights. I can’t think. I can’t plan. All I can do is panic.

“Let me help you. What is your schedule like? Do you have family coming into town?”

I nod. “Dad’s picking me up at 8:30. We’re having breakfast then I have to be at the school at 10. Graduation then lunch.” I take a shaky breath. “But I have to get home, I have to shower. I have to... find some underwear...”

“Sit down, Anastasia.”

His demeanor has changed again and I know I have to do as he says. I want to do as he says. Surprisingly, I find myself calming completely when I grab my chair again and sit down. _Christian is going to tell me what to do. He’ll take care of everything._

“First thing’s first. Text your father. Ask him to meet you at breakfast and you’ll find your own way there.” He hands me my phone — _why did he have my phone?_ — and I send the text immediately. 

“Why don’t you text Kate to bring your cap and gown to the school, but I have some clothes here for you.”

* * *

 

By the time we finish up our late night snack, it’s almost 6 a.m. 

“Is it alright if I take a shower now?”

I’m sitting there, my napkin on my lap still, looking innocent. I don’t want to delay much longer. I have to be presentable today. I’m meeting my dad, for god’s sake! I can’t stink of Christian Grey and all the sex we’ve had! I silently beg him to let me spend some time remaking myself into the sweet co-ed Ray knows me as.

He gives me a sly smile. _Uh-oh._ He stands and offers his hand. I take it, standing up, leaving my napkin on the table. 

“Of course, Miss Steele. Right this way.”

Something tells me it won’t be this easy. That smile oozes mischief and mischief spells delays. It’s a good thing I still have a couple hours before I have to go.

He leads me into the master bath, holding my fingers gently the whole way. He leans into the glass shower enclosure and turns on the water, testing the temperature. After he’s satisfied, he turns back to me and slowly unties the belt on my robe. 

I can’t look away from his eyes as he parts the robe slightly, letting it hang open over my breasts. He slides his hands down the terrycloth collar until he reaches my pert nipples, letting his finger run smoothly over my skin.

“Miss Steele, you are not a naturally-inclined sub,” he says, his fingers roaming along my torso.

I catch my breath. “I’m sorry, sir! What did I...” I stop. Of course, I’m looking right at him. I divert my gaze at my toes but get distracted by the bulge in his jeans, unable to pull my eyes away.

His finger lifts my chin back up so I’m meeting his eyes again. “No, it’s okay. I find it...” He seems to be struggling to find the words. “I find it exciting.” With both hands he pushes my robe slightly so it falls from my shoulders, pooling at my feet. “Don’t look away,” he says softly, his hands smoothing over my skin once more.

I try not to shift on the spot, so thoroughly enjoying this connection, this intimacy that we haven’t really been sharing since I signed the contract all of eight hours ago. But when his eyes move down my body, lingering on my breasts, following his hands down between my legs, I can’t hold back the sigh, my head tips back as my back arches and my eyes close.

He grunts and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and he carries me into the shower. His jeans have somehow disappeared entirely. My heart beat races and the space between my thighs gets even wetter than the rest of my body under the stream of the shower.

“If you’re going to look away when I tell you not to...” Before I really know what’s happening, Christian sets me down on my feet and ties the belt from my bathrobe over my eyes, blindfolding me. I panic momentarily, but then I remember what Christian said about trust and fear transforms into excitement, the adrenaline pounding in my ears. 

I feel the cold marble against my back as he presses against my front, the water streaming over us both. He takes my wrists in his hands and pulls them above my head. All I can hear is the water as he ties my hands to the metal pipe of the shower head, stretching my already sore arms and shoulders just barely in the process.

With my vision and my hearing practically eliminated, my sense of touch is enhanced. The slow trickle of warm water over the skin of my neck, my shoulders, my breasts, down my stomach, my back, my legs... It’s all driving me wild with anticipation. I need Christian’s touch.

“Tell me what you want, Miss Steele,” he says over the rush of water. He sounds far away.

“I want you, sir.”

He laughs a little — a sound that makes me shiver despite the heat of the water. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, Miss Steele.”

I can feel the blood rush to my face. _I want your cock inside of me now!_ is what I want to say, but I just can’t make myself form the words. “I want you to... To touch me, sir.” Before I’ve even finished the sentence, I can feel his teeth on the underside of my upper arm, scraping against my skin, surprising me at the intensity of the sensation. He bites down on my tricep and my knees buckle slightly, leaving me hanging from my wrists.

“Now Miss Steele,” he whispers, letting his tongue circle the outer edge of my ear. “Is that what you meant? Are you satisfied?” He nibbles gently on my earlobe, forcing a strangled sigh out of my throat. “Did you come yet?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then, I guess you need to give me more instruction. Tell me what you like.” _But I don’t_ know _what I like! That’s the whole point!_

“I like it when you kiss my neck,” I say shyly. I don’t know that I can handle this — the responsibility of leading — but I am definitely enjoying the benefits. He takes his time, working his way from my ear to my collar bone, kissing, nibbling, and sucking as he goes, careful not to touch me anywhere else.

“I like it when you touch my...” I can’t do this. 

“Your what, Anastasia?” he says, speaking into my collarbone. 

“My breasts,” I gasp.

Softly, his hands caress the very top of my breasts, his fingers just grazing the skin.

“Lower,” I say before my modesty can stop me. He does as I command, letting his fingers linger on my nipples before skimming that sensitive skin below. I arch my back, pressing my breasts into his hands. “Harder.”

“Harder?” I can tell he’s smirking, as he kisses the spot just between my neck and my shoulder.

“Rougher,” I clarify. He squeezes each breast, scraping his fingernails along the sides, pinching my nipples, his touch feverish. A deep moan echoes in the bathroom as I have another mini-orgasm.

“I think you’re enjoying this, Miss Steele. Telling me what to do,” he says before biting into my neck hard.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any other likes?”

“I...” I hesitate. I can’t say what it is I’m thinking. I just can’t.

“Do you like it when I pull your hair?”

I nod.

“Say it.”

“Pull my hair, Mr. Grey.” Almost immediately, I feel a rough tug on my wet locks, pulling my head back hard, arching my back further.

“Do you like it when I kiss you, Miss Steele.”

“Oh, kiss me!” I nearly scream when his mouth covers mine, his tongue pushing in, pressing against mine. It’s like he’s fucking my mouth with his tongue.

Still pulling my hair and fondling my breast, he pulls back from our kiss.

“Tell me what you want, Ana.”

“I want you to spank me, sir.”

 _Shit!_ Did I really just say that out loud? Sure, I’ve been thinking it ever since our first time together, but I hadn’t even considered asking him to do it. I’d been quite a bit disappointed by the measly five slaps I’ve gotten since. 

A long moment passes before he says anything, his grip on my hair and my breast slacking in the meantime. 

“You want me to spank you?”

“Yes, sir.” It’s barely audible over the crash of water. “And to fuck me.”

He growls quietly, his hands leaving my skin, all contact cut off. I whine slightly and wiggle in discomfort.

“Are you sure?”

“Please, Mr. Grey,” I say. “Do it hard.”

Another long moment passes and then I’m being spun around, my wrists crossing above my head, my arms and back stretched further as he pulls my hips towards him, putting me directly under the jet of water again. I hang my head so I’m able to breathe.

“Be careful what you wish for, Miss Steele,” he snarls. I’m terrified but I do not regret my request. Yet.

He slaps me, hard, much harder than before, on the right side of my ass. The water gives it a horrifying cracking sound. The force of the slap pushes me forward, my elbows hitting the marble. With all my will power, I manage to find my voice. “One.”

“Is that hard enough for you, Miss Steele?” He sounds angry, his voice strained. Before I can respond, he slaps me again, this time on the left. It’s even harder than before, my elbows making contact with the marble again, leaving them feeling bruised.

“Two,” I cry. This is so good, but I am starting to feel fear creeping in. If I can keep it at bay, I can ride this out to what is sure to be a mind-blowing orgasm.

“If I don’t trust you,” he pants, “how can you trust me?” He hits me again twice, once on each leg. I can tell he’s starting to really put his back into it. The stinging is intense and the pain lingers much longer than before, but I manage to keep count.

I shriek as he changes the temperature of the water. Where it had been a warm, soothing temperature, reminding me of the heat of his body against mine, it’s now as cold as ice water. The shock of it hurts, my nipples tightening to painful points. He hits me again and again: on the ass; on my thighs; on my hips; and on my sex. Those are the worst ones of all. They leave me feeling raw, yearning for more but fearing it, too.

“I need to trust you,” he growls, landing the fifteenth blow, this one hitting me squarely on the apple of my right ass cheek. “And you need to trust me.” This, the sixteenth slap, hits me in the center of my left side. It’s the hardest so far and forces my knee to give. I slip slightly on my right foot and the cuffs holding my wrists pull painfully at my already strained shoulders.

Instead of counting this time, I yell, “Yellow!” at the top of my lungs.

He stops immediately, pulling at my hips to get me upright again, then spinning me around to face him. He pushes my hips with his hands until I’m standing with my back flat against the marble wall, my hands above my head still, but the pressure on them relieved. The water pounds down, loud in my ears and cold on my skin as it bounces off Christian’s chest. I don’t even hear the rip of foil.

His mouth is on mine and I moan into him, the full lengths of our bodies touching finally, giving my desire purchase. He lifts me up by my still stinging thighs and plunges into me hard.

 _Finally_ , is all I can think as he slams into me over and over, his tongue still in my mouth. He presses my thighs higher until my pelvis is pinned against the marble, unable to move even slightly. He leans back from me, ending our kiss.

“Do you like that, Miss Steele?” he breathes.

 _“_ Yes, sir.”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck me, Mr. Grey.” He does, but gentler. “Fuck me harder, Mr. Grey.” He does, but slower. “Fuck me hard, fuck me fast!”

I can practically _hear_ him smile. “Careful what you wish for, Miss Steele.”


	18. Dressing the Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana struggles with her new clothes...

After our “smack-n-smack” session, Christian shows me to a walk-in closet, _my_ walk-in closet. 

“Obviously, there’s more, at Escala,” he say, opening the doors. _Holy crap, more?!_ The closet is filled with a number of full-length gowns, as well as an array of cotton, linen, wool, and silk blouses, skirts, pants, and dresses. There’s drawers upon drawers of bras, panties, garter belts, and thigh-highs. Three whole drawers are filled with jewelry. There are at least fifteen pairs of shoes — all heels except one pair of athletic sneakers which sit displayed next to a sports bra, white tube socks, and a pair of the tiniest gym shorts I’ve ever seen. 

“Obviously,” is all I can eek out.

As I’m ogling the incredibly adult-looking assortment of clothes and accessories ( _Is that a  Birkin?_ ), Christian takes my hand. “Will you wear what I picked out for you today? You don’t have to.” He sounds so unsure, so unlike himself in this moment. He’s asking _permission_ for something. My guess is he’s not used to doing that. I nod, grateful to not have to make any decisions right now. Grateful, too, that I’ll have some underwear on when I meet Ray in an hour and a half.

He squeezes my hand gently before pulling out a red silk sleeveless blouse and a black pencil skirt,  hanging them on the hook by the door to the closet. He then places a pair of black suede pumps beneath them, pulls out a skimpy lace bra and panty set, setting them on top of the dresser along with rhinestone stud earrings that I suspect may actually be diamonds. _Huge_ diamonds.

“I’ll leave you to change,” he whispers against my neck, planting a small kiss just behind my ear. It makes me shiver. Before I can think better of it, I grab his hand.

“No, please stay, sir.”

The look on his face is almost laughable. He’s confused and shocked and more than a little turned on. I can see that fire behind his eyes. Maybe he’s a little mad, too. His palm twitches in mine.

“I want you to watch.” It’s all about honesty, right? The truth of the matter is that I _do_ want him to watch me. I want to leave for breakfast with the knowledge that Christian is _remembering_ what I look like, not _imagining_ it. 

 That now-familiar mischievous smile appears and I falter. _Crap, what did I just volunteer for_. 

“In that case,” he says, snatching the panties from on top of the dresser before rummaging around the drawers and pulling out a new pair. “Why don’t you wear these?”

I’m sure the look on my face is less than attractive. “Uh, okay, I mean... I don’t know what was wrong with the last pair,” I say incredulously, reaching for the drawer.

He grabs my hand inches from the handle. “Do you wish to please me?”

I shift uncomfortably under his stare. “Yes, sir.”

“Then you’ll wear these.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll put them on last,” he says, walking to the door and leaning against the frame to watch me, panties still clutched in his hand.

First things first. I have to clear my head a little. I had a plan. I had thoughts. But now that the moment of truth has arrived, I’m not nearly as brazenly confident as I was when I asked him to watch me get dressed. I look around the closet at all the clothes and feel the panic starting to boil up. I don’t know what I’m doing.

“Why don’t you start with the shoes?”

I look up at him and see a quiet patience. It’s amazing how I can let myself just follow his instructions and feel completely at ease. I never would have expected it. Kate would judge me horrendously for it, I know. She’d say I wasn’t being my own woman and that I was setting Women’s Lib back a half-century.

Well, this makes me feel sexy.

I saunter over to the Leboutin pumps and slip one foot in, then shifting my weight and holding onto the dresser for balance, I slip my other foot into its shoe. I can’t quite get my heel in — they’re brand new shoes after all — and kick my heel up to grab the back of the shoe with my finger.

I hear a grunt from behind me and look over my shoulder. Christian’s cock is standing at full attention: I can see it clearly through the towel still wrapped around his waist. I nearly lose my footing at the sight and decide to focus on what I’m doing. I crouch down to struggle with the shoe from a different angle, lengthening my legs and standing up slowly when I’m done.

If he wants a show, he’ll get a show.

I turn to face him, posing for a moment. “How do I look?”

He doesn’t skip a beat. “Fuckable.”

I blush crimson. “What shall I put on next, sir?”

“How about the bra,” he suggests.

I turn back to the dresser, picking up the soft cup lacy bra and slipping my arm through the straps. I lift my hair out of the way and hook it behind my back, turning towards him to shift my breasts up in the bra. 

“How’s that?”

“I’m going to enjoy doing this in reverse later.”

We continue our little game. Next comes the skirt then the blouse and the earrings. Quite honestly, I’m tempted to go out just like this, but Christian seems to really be looking forward to these panties. God knows what’s so special about them.

Finally, I walk over to him, holding out my hand to take them. He holds them up, stretching the material between the index fingers of both hands, displaying them for me.

It’s basically a lace belt with a strand of pearls instead of underwear.

“Is that a necklace?”

I’m completely bewildered. It has to be the ugliest necklace I’ve ever seen.

He shakes his head no. “Here, let me help.”

He bends and I put my hands on his shoulders, steadying myself as I lift one foot, then the other, stepping into the sad excuse for panties. He lifts them slowly up my legs, letting his fingers run over my calves, my knees, then lifting my skirt to my thighs and my hips. And then the panties are on.

As predicted, the lace sits high on my hips, much higher than I’ve ever worn panties before, but the pearls run over my mound, against my clit, up my slit, over my ass, and come up my spine before meeting the lace again. I shift slightly, trying to get used to the hard sensation of the beads, and realize _why_ he wants me to wear these.

“Holy shit,” I say under my breath, still holding Christian’s shoulders for support. I look up at the satisfied, smoldering look on his face and nearly melt. “I don’t know that I can do this, Christian.”

He places one hand on the side of my face and kisses me gently, his lips barely touching mine. “You can do this, Miss Steele.” Then he slaps me once very hard on the ass, shifting the pearls and nearly making me fall to the floor. I know my eyes shifted to the back of my skull from the nasty pleasure of it. “And that’s for calling me ‘Christian’.”

* * *

Suddenly, I find myself in hell. I don’t really know how I got here, but I know that it’s somehow Christian Grey’s fault. The sexy bastard.

I walk as gingerly as I can, trying to keep the pearls from rubbing me the wrong way, as it were, into the diner to meet Ray. 

_I cannot have an orgasm in front of my dad._

Christian went in ten minutes before me and is sitting at his own table in the corner, eyeing me intently. That look alone has me soaked, the pearls are definitely not helping. 

And the car trip over was the worst kind of torture. Besides the constant hum of the engine under me, Christian spent most of the ride sliding his hand up my skirt while he drove. If I tried to swat him away, he would pinch my nipple, looking over at me hungrily. In the end, my fear of crashing won out over my fear of orgasm and I’d let him pet me nearly to the breaking point over and over again.

I’m starting to rethink that policy. Crashing would have been better than this. 

Ray jumps up and pulls me into a long embrace. Thankfully I’m able to stay still and only the dripping sensation between my thighs reminds me of how close I am to embarrassing us both. Ray never hugs me, so I’m near tears by the time we sit down.

Shit. I have to sit down, don’t I?

What I’ve discovered about these “underwear” is that sitting down is an intimate affair, as it just increases the pressure tenfold. And did you think sitting was a stationary activity? Oh, well, it probably is... _If you’re not about to come_. I can’t seem to sit still in these things. So then it becomes a non-stop party.

Ray holds out my hard-backed (and hard-seated) chair, which mocks me as I slowly lower myself. As Ray pushes it in and I scoot as naturally as I can, my sigh is thankfully masked by a loud chuckle across the diner. Christian is beside himself, laughing into his coffee cup.

Well, I’m glad he’s amused.

* * *

I magically manage to control myself through breakfast, nodding when appropriate and vaguely following the conversation. I dodge a couple questions about my love life, and then, thankfully, we head out, walking over to the auditorium. When we reach the gates, I give Ray a quick peck on the cheek and tell him I’ll see him later.

Thank god. I wasn’t really sure how much longer I could last — and if I’m going to come in public, it better not be while I’m standing right next to my dad.

I see Kate down the hallway, holding two caps and gowns, but before I can get her attention, Christian grabs my hand and pulls me down a side hall. I’m practically running behind him — a bad idea, considering — until we come to a random classroom, flinging the door open, pulling me inside. He slams the door shut and pushes me up against it, his hips pressing against me. He pins my wrists above my head with one hand and languidly runs the other down my neck, across my collarbone, and over my breast, pinching my nipple and making me scream slightly. I’m panting from the running, from the closeness of him, from the _fucking_ pearls. I can’t take this much longer.

His fingers run down my stomach, lifting the hem of my blouse. They run along the lace of the panties, pulling slightly, moving the pearls along my... Well, my everything. My back arches and my hips press hard into his. 

“Did you _enjoy_ breakfast with your father, Anastasia?” he asks, laughing.

“Fuck you, Mr. Grey.”

His fingers stop.

“Fuck me?”

My eyes fly open. Oh, I should _not_ have said that.

“I was _going_ to fuck _you_ , Miss Steele,” he growls angrily, jerking on the panties. My vision blurs. “But now...”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir,” I sob.

“Do you want me to let you come, Miss Steele?” he asks, his expression and his movements softening, rubbing me just so.

“Oh, yes, yes. Please, sir.”

His hand moves back to my breasts, tweaking the nipples again. “I will let you know when you may come, Anastasia.” He leans in closer, his hand cupping my ass, pulling me open, letting the pearls settle even closer to me. “Don’t come before that. I will know.” He presses himself against me again, pinning me to the door. His cock against my thigh, his lips against my ear, he whispers, “And don’t let anyone else know you’re coming. I want all your pleasure to be mine.”


	19. Graduation

I tenderly shift in my seat between a couple hundred of my closest friends in the “S” section. After Christian _didn’t_ assault me in an abandoned classroom, I had to rush to find Kate and then to find my spot in the procession, barely sharing a word with her out of nervousness. _Rushing_ and pearl panties do not go well together. At least not when you _don’t_ want to come.

Kate’s speech is great. She must have been working on it very hard. It was good when she practiced in front of me last week, but it wasn’t a showstopper. Towards the end of the speech, her eyes meet mine in the crowd and she smiles. I feel the cream leak out of me onto the pearls, onto my skirt. At least I have the hideous robe to cover up. 

She doesn’t miss a beat, though, her eyes only resting on mine for a moment before she looks out over the crowd again. My gaze flits over to Christian, who is eyeing me intently. He shakes his head “no” so slightly that it would be imperceptible to an onlooker, but I see it.

_Don’t come yet_ , is what he’s telling me.

I clap enthusiastically at the end of Kate’s speech, watching as she goes to sit down next to Christian on the stage. They exchange an odd look before he stands up, buttoning his jacket.

“Look at him!” I hear a squeaky voice behind me. 

I don’t take my eyes off Christian as he approaches the lectern, but then I hear another voice say, “He’s so hot. I wonder if he’s single.”

I bristle slightly, but keep my cool. Turning around fully, I have to catch my breath when the pearls slide over me. _Christ!_ I am not going to make it. I lean conspiratorially towards the girls. “I heard somewhere that he might be gay.”

“Damn,” says one girl. 

“All the best ones,” says her friend.

I turn around again to face the stage, slower this time, keeping my breath as steady as possible.

I have _no idea_ what his speech was about. His eyes never meet mine the entire time, but a small smile creeping up the sides of his mouth means he knows I’m watching him. I can’t pull my eyes away from him to look at Kate, though I’m dying to know what she’s thinking. I don’t even really know what _I’m_ thinking. 

Before long, it’s over. Everyone’s standing up and clapping. He’s gotten a standing ovation. _Damn, I really should have listened to the speech_.

I join the rest of the crowd, standing, clapping, panting (that part’s just me I think) when he looks straight at me and smirks. 

Is this the signal? Is it time? Why now? Is it that the noise is meant to cover me? Would he make it that easy? 

But before I can think, everyone is sitting down and I am nearly at the edge of a body-wracking orgasm, standing alone in the S’s. I blush and sit down, pulling my eyes away from Christian’s laughing ones. 

When my ass hits the chair this time, I let out an audible gasp. Everyone within a yard of me turns to look, but I fake a coughing fit and they look away.

By the time I compose myself to look up at the stage again, Christian is no longer looking at me. He’s back in his chair, next to Kate. Chatting. They’re having a freaking _conversation_. 

Oh my god, what are they talking about?

She throws her head back to laugh as the first of the A’s climb the stairs to receive their diplomas. Christian pulls himself to stand again, shaking the hands of graduates, offering them congratulations. He’s beaming from ear-to-ear and though I don’t know why, I’m embarrassed. 

Maybe it’s the threat of being discovered in my near-orgasmic state. 

Maybe it’s the possibility that Kate and Christian were talking about _me._  

Maybe it’s that those hands that were on me just twenty minutes ago are now touching those of my entire graduating class.

I pull my eyes away from the blush-inducing Christian Grey to try to steady myself. I know it’ll be at least a half-hour before my section is called to stand and I have to keep myself together at least that long. I highly doubt that I’ll be getting the signal before I’m up on stage.

I look around for Kate but notice she’s not to be found on the stage. I search with my eyes, wondering where she could have gone — maybe back to the K section? — when I notice her walking straight towards me. What is she _doing_?

When she reaches my row, she steps over several people to scooch towards me, then shoves me a little so we share my folding chair, much to the chagrin of those seated next to me.

“What are you doing, Kate? Shouldn’t you be with the K’s?”

She gives me an incredulous look and points at her tassel.

“Didn’t you see me graduate?! I was the first one, Steele!”

I blanch entirely then lean in quickly and give her a giant hug, moving the pearls along the way. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I totally missed it.”

I must have been trying to collect myself.

“Well, Chris said you were distracted,” she says quietly. 

“‘ _Chris’?_ ”

“Yeah, what do you call him? ‘Christian’? Too long. He said it was fine.”

Oh, so now they’re on a nickname basis.

“Whatever, he calls me ‘Katie’ and I manage to tolerate that.”

Ah, and there the color comes back to my face.

I feel my wetness spreading again, bringing me close to my panting state from earlier. Christian’s voice from earlier echoes in my head, _And don’t let anyone else know you’re coming. I want all your pleasure to be mine._ It’s proving to be harder than anticipated. Especially with Kate practically sitting on my lap.

As nonchalantly as possible, I ask, “So, uh, what were you two chatting about?”

Kate gives me an evil smirk and a wink. That’s enough to make me come right here. “Chris told me not to tell.” 

She leans in even closer to whisper, placing a hand on my thigh in the process. I look up at the stage to see Christian looking right back at me. At _us_ , I guess.

“He said I should come say hi to you because you were all worked up about something.” She gives my thigh a little squeeze and leans even closer, her lips just brushing my ear. “I have a guess as to what that could be, Steele.”

Christian nearly snarls in my direction but returns to his task of shaking hands and congratulating graduates. 

She gives me a tiny little peck just behind my ear then jumps up, excusing herself over several, very annoyed pairs of legs.

“See you after you’re done!” she calls back, then disappears into the crowd again.

I close my eyes and try to slow my racing heartbeat. I think of puppies and swimming pools, Jane Austen and microeconomics — all the things that calm me. 

In what feels like just an instant, everyone in my row stands and the guy sitting to my right taps me on the shoulder.

“Come on, get up already,” he says.

I leap to my feet, which undoes all of my good work of lowering my heartrate, since it causes the pearls  to completely shift, bringing a new wave of wetness practically dripping down my thigh under my robe.

I have to shuffle my feet to escape my row, which is even more excruciatingly wonderful than the standing was. By the time I reach the aisle, I’m out of breath once more. The guy behind me offers me his inhaler, but I wave him away. 

“I’m just excited… about finally graduating,” I say.

We make our wait to the stage as slowly as humanly possible. It’s driving me crazy, this shuffle-stop-shuffle-stop-shuffle-stop rhythm we’ve established.

Once I reach the foot of the stairs to the stage, I hesitate. I have managed to hold myself together this far, but between the prospect of lifting my legs to climb the four steps and of seeing Christian Grey, of _touching_ Christian Grey… and in front of all these people. I don’t know that I’d survive it if I came loudly in front of everyone I know. I’d die of shame right there on the spot.

Well, at least I would die happy.

I wait until the girl in front of me clears the top landing then rush up the stairs as quickly as possible. When I reach the top, I can’t help rubbing my thighs together to keep up the sweet, evil friction.

“Anastasia Steele,” the provost declares to what feel like raucous applause. I scurry over to the president, shaking his hand and taking my diploma. I smile for the photographer, but can barely focus my eyes at this point. I’m going to come. It’s going to be big. It’s probably going to be loud. It’s going to be the end of me.

I wobble slightly on the high heels when I see Christian waiting for me at the other end of the stage.

He smiles warmly at me. For the lay observer, nothing inappropriate is happening here. I stagger over to him and he all but catches me in his arms.

“I’m so very proud of you, Miss Steele,” he says, shaking my hand. He reaches up, I think to touch my face — in front of everyone — but reaches instead for my tassel, moving it to the other side of my cap. “You seem distracted, Miss Steele,” he says and smiles again. My knees buckle. 

Still holding my hand, he leans in slightly, touching my shoulder. “You may come now, Miss Steele.” 

All I can do is shake my head. I can’t do that in front of all these people. No way.

“Hm, I see,” he says, standing up straight again and giving my hand one last good shake. “How about when you sit back down, then, hm?” There’s no smile this time.

“Yes, sir.”

I hurry down the stairs and basically power walk back to my seat. The whole row waits standing, me pacing in place, until the last person gets back. When the usher gives us the signal, we all sit as one. 

I look up at Christian as I lean back and come. The last graduate gets his degree to thunderous applause before I’m finished.


	20. Mine

Eventually, I manage to find Ray. He’s standing with Kate, and… oh god, Christian. I don’t know that I can handle this. I had to sit very still for about ten minutes after my orgasm I was so sensitive and the pearls were _right there_. Now I’m building again and Christian winking at me is not helping.

Neither is the way Kate keeps laughing at his jokes.

She’s got her robe open and I can see the white low-cut sundress she’s wearing underneath. Her breasts distract me from Christian for a moment. I wonder if I could fit one each into my hands…

“Ana!” my dad calls, waving me over. I hurry as much as I dare over before he gives me a giant and un-Ray-like hug. I pull back from our touching moment to see tears welling behind his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Anastasia,” he says softly.

I feel the tears welling in my eyes, too. What a roller coaster of emotions! I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack before this day is through.

Dad holds me at arm’s length, beaming at me, then claps me on the shoulders and composes himself. “Kate was just introducing me to your boyfriend here.”

I audibly gag. _Boyfriend?_ “Kate!” I snap at her. Wasn’t this supposed to be a secret? And where’d she get the term “boyfriend” from? He’s going to be so mad at me. Both that I told Kate anything and that he’s now my “boyfriend”. I pale imagining what my punishment for this could be.

But when I look to Christian, he’s smiling lazily at me. He reaches out his hand and takes mine, holding it comfortably. 

I’m holding hands with Christian Grey.

How is this my life?

“It’s okay, Ana, it’s not a secret.” 

 _Funny, I thought it was_ , I think.

He gives me an innocent kiss on the lips then extends his free hand to Ray. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he says, shaking hands.

Good god, for some reason I find it incredibly hot when he says “sir”.

I look back at Kate and see her grinning. She gives me a thumbs-up but I still scowl at her. How dare she be cute and adorable at a moment like this? She should be meek and contrite!

“You gave a hell of a speech, Mr. Grey.”

“Please, call me Christian.”

Oh, so _Ray_ can call him Christian, _Kate_ can call him freaking _Chris_ , but _I_ have to call my “boyfriend” Mr. Grey? That seems logical.

I admit it. I’m ornery because of the pearls. They’re long past their enjoyable phase and now just making me squirmy.

Christian looks down at me and whispers into my ear, “Why don’t you go powder your nose? You can take those off now if you like,” then gives me a little kiss on my neck and squeezes my hand.

“Will you excuse me, I’m just going to run to the ladies’ room,” I say. Kate joins me on the trip, skipping and jumping in an overabundance of energy. She really wouldn’t do well in these underwear.

“Have you seen Ethan yet, Ana?” she asks, hopping along.

“Not yet,” I say, smiling at the thought. He’s such a pleasure to be around. Although, I have to say I’m glad I didn’t run into him in the pearls. He usually picks me up and spins me around as a greeting and I’m not sure I could handle that in this state.

 

After I have my underwear safely stashed in my purse and I’ve checked my skirt for signs of my bad behavior (all clear… thank god for the color black. And for lining), we grab a couple glasses of champagne before heading back to my dad and Christian, who are just chatting up a storm.

Why does Christian Grey have to be so likable? It makes it all seem a bit naughtier knowing what he’s like behind closed doors.

Out of nowhere, I’m lifted off the ground, squealing like a piglet. I nearly flash everyone around me but manage to keep my feet pointing towards the ground (the whole no-underwear thing takes a little getting used to). Once I’m firmly on the ground again, I spin around to find myself in Ethan’s arms. I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a big hug. This time he picks me up and spins me, making me giggle uncontrollably.

Finally, when we’re still again, he gives me a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.

I feel Christian Grey at my back before I see him. The heat coming off of him is intense.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he grumbles.

“Chris, this is my brother, Ethan,” Kate jumps in, grabbing Ethan for a quick hug. “So what? I haven’t seen you in months and you say hi to Steele first? Some brother you are!” She punches him hard in the shoulder. She’s definitely much stronger than she looks (I know first-hand) and I can tell it’ll leave a big bruise.

“Ow! Sorry, Kate,” he says. He must be the only person I know who acts contrite when he’s supposed to. 

She smiles warily back at him before punching him in the other shoulder. “There, now we’re even.” She turns towards Christian and me. “Ethan, this is Ana’s boyfriend.” I shift uncomfortably at the word, but Christian just fumes behind me.

Ethan looks directly at me, wide-eyed. “I thought we were saving ourselves for each other, Steele,” he jokes. Christian puts his hand protectively on my shoulder and shifts forward slightly.

“Enough, Ethan,” I say, before this gets out of hand. “Christian, Ethan. Ethan, Christian.” Christian manages to hold himself together long enough to shake Ethan’s hand. He can’t seem to manage a smile, though.

“Great speech. Loved the part about ‘living your dreams’,” Ethan says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I can see that this will end badly for all involved, so I take Christian’s hand and attempt to lead him back to Ray, who’s standing by himself, clutching a glass of champagne and looking sort of lost. Before we get halfway there, Christian pulls me to the right, past a group of sorority girls, and through a door into an academic building.

He pulls me into an abandoned windowless classroom (is this the same one from before?), closing the door behind us and locking it.

“Stand facing the desk,” he says, nodding towards the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. I blush and hurry over. “Good. Put your hands on the edge and take a step back.” I do as I’m told, immediately remembering our very first encounter. I stretch myself a little further than I otherwise would and spread my feet as wide as I can in this pencil skirt. 

To please him. To please me.

“Very good, Miss Steele,” he purrs, circling around me. “I want you to remember this stance. This will be your ready position when we are not in the playroom. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Grey.”

“Very good.” He stops directly behind me and makes two or three adjustments — he gently pushes my head so it hangs a little lower, pulls my hips so my back is just a little more arched, and moves my thumb so it’s resting on top of the table. “Mm, that’s better,” he hums. He steps back to admire his handiwork.

“On second thought, stand up.”

Disappointed, I stand up, turning to face him.

“No, no. Face the desk. Good. Now lift up your skirt.”

I grab the hem of my pencil skirt and lift it to my thighs. 

“Higher,” he says.

I lift it to crotch level.

“Higher.”

I take a deep breath and go whole hog — up to the waistband, exposing my entire nether regions.

“Very good, Miss Steele. _Now_ , grab the desk and spread your legs for me.” 

I lean back over, feeling a whole hell of a lot dirtier this time.

“Perfect,” he says, smoothing his hand over my left ass cheek. “ _This_ is your ready position. You will present yourself to me like this whenever I say. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He spreads my cheeks with his hands, crouching low. “And remember, Miss Steele,” he says, licking along my opening before slipping three fingers inside of me, spreading me even further. “This is mine.”

“Yes, sir,” I breathe.

“Mine,” he chants.

“Yes, sir.”

“Say it, Miss Steele.”

“It’s yours, sir. It’s all yours.”

“Good,” he says, running his hands over my ass once again, leaving me feeling empty. He hooks his fingers around my hips and pulls me into his swollen crotch, surely getting the front of his trousers wet in the process.

“I want you to imagine me inside of you every time you come. Is that understood, Miss Steele?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If Miss Kavanagh makes you come, I want mine to be the name you scream.”

“Yes, sir.”

He lifts my shoulders so my back is pressed up against his chest. He strokes my clit with one hand gently from the front and fucks me with the fingers of the other roughly from behind. It’s mind-blowing.

“Do you like when I fuck you like this, Anastasia?”

“Oh god yes.”

“Do you want Kate to fuck you like this, Anastasia?”

My mind blanks. No thought goes into my response at _all_.

“Yes, yes, sir.”

I’m so close. His movements get rougher as he asks, “Do you want Ethan to fuck you like this?” His hands almost completely stop.

My eyes pop open.

“No, sir.”

“Really?”

Again, I hear the little lost boy hidden in Christian’s voice. His fears laid bare.

“Really.”

“Good,” he growls, bending me over once more. 

I grab the desk like before and brace myself as his hands pull away and I hear his zipper followed by the now-familiar sound of ripping foil.

He enters me roughly, making me cry out softly. 

“Good,” he says, thrusting hard.

“This.”

Thrust.

“This.”

Thrust.

“This.”

Thrust.

“Is.”

Thrust.

“Mine.”

With that final thrust we come together, nearly falling down entirely.


	21. The Laying-Out of Cards

Before too long I hear a quiet knock at the door. _Oh god, oh god, oh god!_  

I look back at Christian in horror. He’s still inside of me for Christ’s sake!

“Ana, your dad asked me to…” 

Kate opens the door. 

Frozen like deer facing an oncoming Dodge Caravan, Christian and I move _not an inch_. I’m completely bent over, clutching the desk, skirt hitched up to my waist, be-heeled feet spread wide, and Christian is holding my hips so tightly his knuckles are surely white. 

Kate blushes a horrendous shade of violet and slams the door shut as she quickly exits the room.

“Sorry! Oh my god sorry!!” she shouts from outside the door.

It takes me a moment to regain control of my brain. Christian gently extricates himself from me. He tosses the condom and zips his fly before smoothing my skirt down and helping me to stand up. He indicates the desk and I sit gently on the edge. Slowly, he walks over to the door and opens it.

Kate is standing there, her face in her hands, still blushing.

“I believe you had a message,” Christian says nonchalantly.

Kate keeps her eyes covered as she says quietly, “Ray was heading out. He said these kinds of froo-froo events aren’t his thing so he’ll talk to you later in the week.” There’s a long pause.

“Thanks, Kate,” I reply, equally as quiet.

Another pause.

“God I’m so sorry!” she bellows. 

Christian kindly puts a hand on her back and ushers her inside the classroom, closing the door. “Why don’t you sit down for a second, Miss Kavanagh?”

She sits in one of the student chairs. It’s one of those amphitheater-style classrooms with the armrest that folds to form a writing surface. She’s on the aisle so hers is left-handed.

“Miss Kavanagh, please uncover your face, we’re all adults here,” Christian says in a soft voice. 

Kate lowers her hands finally and I can see the pink is making her face glow slightly. I’ve never seen her so embarrassed. Hell, I’m not sure I’ve _ever_ seen her embarrassed.

“I believe you already knew that Miss Steele and I have become,” he pauses to find the right phrasing, “intimate?”

She nods.

“Perhaps you’d surmised that we’ve been,” he pauses again, “a bit rougher than the norm?”

Her eyes flick to mine for a moment then back to Christian. She nods again.

“Were you aware of,” another pause. I’m starting to think these are more calculated than I’d originally assumed. “Our contract?”

I see something like recognition on Kate’s face, but there’s surprise there too. And maybe anger.

“Contract?”

I panic for a moment. Is Christian going to tell her everything? Because I don’t actually think Kate will be understanding and cool with all of it. In fact she’d probably kidnap me and take me to Belize before letting me see Christian again.

But I watch tension release from Christian’s shoulders as he says, “Yes, a non-disclosure agreement. It’s fairly standard for anyone in the public eye. I don’t want a jilted lover to one day blab to the tabloids about how I like to, uh…” This time the pause does not feel planned, but exposed. 

I chime in, relieving him the responsibility, “How he likes to _fuck_.”

Both Kate’s and Christian’s eyes swing towards me at the profanity.

“Thank you, Anastasia,” Christian smolders. There’s a glint in his eye that might mean he’s as turned on as I am. Every time he uses my first name I feel an intense swirling sensation in the pit of my stomach. It only lasts a moment but I feel a bit like I’m going to fall over. I file “dirty talk” away in the back of my mind for future use.

I pull my eyes away from his and realize that Kate has the same look.

After a moment, Christian turns back to Kate. “I’d really appreciate if you signed one as well. I think it will just put everyone at ease.”

Kate bristles. “It’s not like I’d print it in a newspaper. Ana is half of this story and she’s my best friend.”

He doesn’t look up from his phone. “I’m not worried you’ll put something in an article, Miss Kavanagh.”

I pipe in, “Then what…”

“If I’m not mistaken, you _are_ dating my brother, are you not, Miss Kavanagh?”

She shifts in her seat. “I don’t know that I’d call it ‘dating’,” she sighs. “As Ana so eloquently put it, we fuck.”

“Yes, well, I would really be uncomfortable with him knowing…” He trails off.

“That the two of you…?” She sounds incredulous, surprised. “It’s not really a shocking revelation. You just introduced yourself as Ana’s boyfriend to her dad. It’s sort of assumed that you two… _fuck_.”

She gives me a knowing stare. It says _I know what you did_ and _It turns me on_.

Christian takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“Really it’s the specific nature of my relationship with Ana that’s private and confidential. You have first-hand knowledge now, but you’re bound to find out more. I’d also like Ana to feel comfortable discussing some specifics with you as I know you two are,” he pauses to look up at Kate meaningfully. “Close.”

I can feel the color covering my cheeks instantaneously. 

Christian looks at me for a moment, stowing his cell phone. He stands and walks over to me, sitting beside me on the desk and putting a hand on my knee. He slowly circles his thumb on the inner edge of my kneecap and my breathing hitches. 

“Am I to understand you don’t have a meaningful emotional attachment to my brother, Miss Kavanagh?” he asks, his voice taking on a darker quality.

She’s finally starting to relax. I watch as the confidence returns to her movements, to her voice. I wonder if it’s the prospect of an argument that’s done it. “I like him well enough if that’s what you mean. But we’re not exclusive if _that’s_ what you mean. Up until today, I didn’t know you two were exclusive.” It sounds like an excuse. She looks at me on that. Am I in trouble with her? Is she mad at me that I didn’t mention that Christian and I were exclusive? Only…

“But we’re not,” I say matter-of-factly. Christian and Kate both stare at me, surprised. Christian growls quietly.

I look at Christian. We’re so close I can smell his  natural cologne: sex and freshly pressed linen and man and just a little bit of sweat. “Well, are we?” I whisper to him. Recognition slides across his face.

He leans forward, his lips grazing my ear. “I suppose you’re right,” he breathes. His hand on my knee creeps up my thigh as he tenderly kisses me behind the ear. His face is just starting to stubble and I can feel the gentle scratchiness of his chin against my neck.

I let out a gentle sigh, closing my eyes, but the moment is over quickly.

Christian sits back up.

“That’s right, Ana has just reminded me of an agreement we have. I stand corrected,” and he does, in fact, stand up.

“Miss Kavanagh, I’ll have some papers messengered to your apartment. Please consider signing them. That will make all this,” he gestures vaguely with his hand. “Sit far more comfortably with me.”

“I’ll consider it,” she says.

The two of them are talking around the subject of me and Kate as though the other doesn’t know about it.

“Well, I’ll let you ladies get back to your adoring fans. I believe you have some celebratory lunches to attend this afternoon. Will you both join me for dinner?”

Kate smiles at me. “We’ll _consider_ it,” she purrs. 

Is she flirting with Christian? In front of me? Is it because she knows we’re not exclusive? Is it to make me jealous? Is it to turn me on? Because that last one is definitely working against my better judgement.

Christian gives a light “harumph” and turns his back on her, standing just to the side of me, his left hand on the desk and his right hand back on my thigh, squeezing lightly. He leans in close. “I’d like you to persuade her to sign the NDA before dinner,” he whispers. 

He slides his hand slowly up my thigh. I’m absolutely certain he’s aware that Kate can see everything. “Seduce her if you must, but be prepared to give me the full details at dinner.” 

His hand continues its climb, lifting my skirt, daring me to protest. “If I hear that she has touched what is mine,” he growls. 

Now his hand has reached the center of me and he’s pumping, leisurely and gracefully, in and out with two of his fingers. His stare is so intense that I look away and find my gaze held by Kate’s. She looks…there’s no other word for it: _hungry_. My heavy breath catches. “I will be displeased.” He stands back up slowly and brings his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers clean. “With you both,” he says finally.

Is that a threat? He wouldn’t spank Kate, would he? God, would Kate punch him in the mouth if he tried?

I straighten my skirt a bit, still breathless, but  now that his touch isn’t distracting me, I’m hyperaware of Kate’s eyes.

He takes on an entirely new persona, smiling broadly as he leans in and plants a chaste peck on my lips. “Well, bye ladies. Hopefully I’ll see you for dinner? Wear something to dance in. I’ll pick you up around 8,” he says cheerily (well, cheerily for Christian), heading for the door. He stops with the door open and turns back.

“Oh, and Katie?”

She perks and pulls her eyes away from mine. “Hm?”

His lids half-closed, his voice dripping sex, he says, “I know I said this before, but well done on the waxing. I wanted to thank you again for that. It is a lovely treat.”

I hear the soft click of the door. Kate and I are alone once more.

 


	22. Two Kisses

Kate and I stare at each other for a long while. My breathing is still heavy from Christian’s touch. Every time it seems like my pulse will slow finally, I remember the look on Kate’s face – a look not dissimilar from the one she’s wearing right now – as Christian’s fingers pumped inside of me just a few moments ago, and I get excited all over again.

After what seems like an hour but is surely only about two minutes, Kate stands up abruptly and says in an unfathomably casual tone, “God, Ana, that boyfriend of yours is hot.” I take a deep breath and watch as she stretches and looks towards the ceiling. Still not looking directly at me, she says, “I’m surprised you two aren’t exclusive. He’s clearly ready for it. He can’t keep his hands off you for five minutes.” She flashes me her winning smile, displaying all 600 of her gleaming white teeth. 

Of course, I blush again.

She ambles over to me, a mishmash of tan skin and potential energy. “If you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. The memory of my dream – the one where Christian fucks Kate as she fucks me – floods my consciousness and I feel my pulse quicken. “I’ve always wanted to try brothers and compare styles,” she says lazily. 

Once she reaches me, she holds out her hands for me to take and helps me to my feet with a bit too much force. I’m flung towards her but manage to stop just shy of a full collision. Our breasts barely touch, her nose alongside mine. I feel static electricity running between our lips. I can smell her lip gloss. 

Raspberries.

Still holding my hands, she whispers, “I really didn’t mean to walk in on you, Ana. I’m so embarrassed.” There’s such emotion in her voice. I can hear her starting to tear up. It’s more than I can bear.

Without thinking, without planning, I let my lips just touch hers. 

Our kiss is so sweet and so gentle that it feels almost like we haven’t kissed at all. There’s no fire in my lips, but a soft tingling feeling spreading all over my body. Through our blouses I can feel her nipples harden against mine as she presses against me ever so slightly. She squeezes my hands in hers. 

I pull my lips away just enough to take a slow, steady breath, then tilt my head and kiss her more deeply. That’s all the encouragement she seems to need because she lets go of my hands, tangling her right hand in my hair and pressing the left against the small of my back. I brace myself against the desk right behind me and run my other hand up her back, feeling the smooth coolness of her silk blouse against my palm. Her tongue probes my mouth. It tastes like champagne and her raspberry lipgloss. 

We’re locked together like this, hands moving gently as our mouths wage war, until she reaches her hand down and squeezes my sore right ass cheek hard, making me gasp. She lets out a giggle – a giggle that would moisten my panties if I was wearing any – and with both hands squeezes both sides of my butt. This time, though, I let out a pained little squeak. It hurts so much but I still want more.

 She tosses her head back to laugh loudly, stepping away from me as she does, back to her nonchalant, flippant self. 

“Jeez, Steele, you’d think he beats you,” she says, walking towards the door.

 _You have no idea_.

“We’d better head for lunch. Otherwise, Ethan’s bound to come looking for us.” I can’t help laughing at the prospect of being walked in on twice in a half-hour. “Just try to behave yourself in front of my parents, okay, Steele? We can’t have you flashing them as well.”

 

Well, lunch is quickly becoming a disaster.

Between Ethan’s questions about Christian, my phone buzzing every six minutes, Kate’s unceasing attempts to rub her hands on my body, and my complete lack of panties, I’m having a lot of trouble concentrating on food. Never mind the fact that I’m sitting right next to Kate’s dad and that there’s _no_ tablecloth. 

“What will it be?” the waitress asks, oblivious to my plight.

“Erm,” I stammer. “Can I be last?” I ask pathetically.

Kate grabs my menu from my hands. “She’ll have the salmon but no pickled onion and I’ll have the New York strip, medium rare. We’ll split green beans.” She gives both our menus to the waitress. She turns her head to me. “You’ll like the salmon,” she says softly but forcefully as the others order.

I completely miss the question Ethan asks me, I’m so distracted.

“What?”

“Jeez, Ana, I asked how it is you know Christian _fucking_ Grey!” Ethan nearly shouts over the din of the other diners.

“Language!” his mother snaps.

Ethan ignores her. “So?” he asks me eagerly.

I sit there for a moment with my mouth slightly open, wanting to answer the question but Kate runs her hand along my thigh while Ethan was talking and now I’m worried at the sounds I might produce if I try to speak.

“She was covering for me,” she answers on my behalf, letting her fingers run in overlapping circles on the inside of my knee. I close my mouth. “I was supposed to interview Christian Grey for the newspaper and was too sick to leave the apartment.” Kate’s fingers walk slowly up my skirt, skin on skin, for anyone to see. My pulse is racing and Kate looks cool as a cucumber.

My phone buzzes in my lap and I nearly climax. I do give a little shocked squeal in surprise and Kate takes her hand away.

_*How’s the seduction going?*_

I text Christian back:

_*LUNCH is going fine, thank you.*_

When I look up, Kate is at my shoulder, reading from my phone. Belatedly, I try to hide it from her.

“Seduction?” she mouths, smirking.

She leans towards me, placing a hand behind me on the bench, letting her fingers press against my ass. Her moist lips touch the edge of my ear when she whispers, “Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Steele?”

What I wouldn’t give for a tablecloth right now. All I can think about is her skin – I want to touch it, to smell it, to taste it, to feel it against my own. Instead, I listen to another of Mr. Kavanagh’s awful semi-racist jokes and smile politely. Kate keeps inching closer to me, each time casually touching parts of my body. First it was my knee, then my back, my ear, my thigh, my arm, my neck. Just as her dad’s starting in on another joke – “a rabbi, George W. Bush, and Tom Cruise walk into a bar” – Kate reaches awkwardly for the butter and manages to graze my breasts with the back of her hand.

I can’t take it anymore!

I jump up abruptly. All four Kavanaghs stare at me in confusion. 

“Uh,” I stall. “I need to pee,” I blurt out and make a mad dash for the restroom.

Once locked safely inside a bathroom stall that smells like eucalyptus and lemons, I lean back against the door and sigh.

I fish out my phone from my purse and quickly dial Christian’s number. He picks up on the first ring.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

His calm baritone voice answers, “Are you asking for help, Miss Steele?”

It’s an interesting question – one I’m not quite sure the answer to. On the one hand, Christian could give me so much helpful advice here. He is far more experienced than I am and I have seen first-hand that he knows how to seduce a woman. On the other hand, he’s made it perfectly clear that he is the jealous type. I don’t need to rub his face in anything. Before I can decide how to answer, he speaks again.

“Let me teach you what to do, Ana.” God, even just hearing him say my name is enough to make me sigh out loud. Then he says quietly, “Please.”

And I get it. By asking me to follow him, he gives me all the power. And by allowing him to direct me, I give it right back to him. In this thing where he feels powerless and unrepresented, I can choose to include him.

I bow my head slightly, even though he can’t see it. “Of course, sir.”

There’s a slight pause and then, his voice deeper, he says, “Good. You’re in the restroom?”

I look around. How does he _do_ that?

“Yes, sir.”

“Are the walls tile?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. In a moment, Kate will most likely join you in the bathroom. When she comes in, grab her gently by the waist and push her against the tile wall. Not so hard she’ll hit her head, but hard enough it makes a sound.”

I hesitate before I answer.

“Yes, Mr. Grey.”

“Kiss her hard. I want you to kiss her deeply and passionately. Hold her waist firmly against the tile.”

He really _wants_ me to do that?

“Yes, sir.”

“Do not let your bodies touch. If she attempts to put her hands on you, grab her wrists and hold them above her head.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Once you feel like you can’t breath, pull back from the kiss and bite her bottom lip. Step back from her, and walk out of the bathroom. Do not say _anything_. Is that clear?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. Now, if she does not come into the bathroom in the next three minutes, call me back.”

 _Click._ He hangs up.

I stand there for a moment, looking at my phone baffled by the specificity of his instructions, then open the stall door and walk to the sink. I wash my hands, staring at myself in the mirror. I dry them on a paper towel and then Christian’s prediction comes true.

Kate came looking for me.

“Ana, what are you doing in here?” she asks.

I set my brow and launch into the plan. Even though she’s a couple inches taller than me, I’m wearing heels today, so we’re nearly the same height. I take two long strides over to her, hooking my hands around her waist and all but slamming her against the wall. I kiss her just as Christian said, letting my mouth stretch around hers, muffling her surprised peep. My instincts tell me to press my entire body into hers, but Christian said not to, so I resist.

Once she’s recovered from the shock and starts kissing me back – and oh _gawd_ , what a kiss! – she does just as he said again and lifts her hands to touch me. Before she reaches my body, I take her forearms and lift them just above her head, pressing them into the wall as well. Her breathing gets significantly heavier at this and her hips buck towards mine. This I had not anticipated. 

Thinking on the fly, I transfer both her wrists to one hand and place the flat of my other hand against her stomach, holding her still. There’s a grumble of protest from Kate, but I just kiss her harder, letting my tongue wrestle with hers. 

After a moment or two, Kate stops resisting. The temptation to run my hand down her arms is nearly unbearable. I so want to press my torso against hers and let her hands wander where I know they shouldn’t. I think of Christian’s insistence while he fucked me with his fingers that there are certain parts of me which are just for him. Thinking of that moment while kissing Kate has me dripping in my skirt. My breathing becomes painful.

Still holding Kate’s wrists and waist firmly against the wall, I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and hold it with my teeth. We each open our eyes as I pull away slightly, tugging her lip slightly as I bite it. There’s something dangerous in the look we exchange. I release her lip and manage to turn on my heel and stalk out of the restroom, pink in the face, just as one of the other patrons opens the door.

I don’t immediately go back to the table, but walk up to the restaurant’s bar and order a shot of whiskey. The idea of facing the Kavanagh clan right now is a bit daunting considering the images that are swirling in my head. For not the first time in the last few days, I fantasize about fucking Kate. Hard. Really hard. But the difference now is that in this fantasy, we’re in the Red Room of Pain and Kate’s bound to the four-poster bed while I do it.

 


	23. Stare Down

By the time I get back to the table, the food has arrived and poor Ethan and Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh are sitting politely not eating while their food gets cold.

Kate’s still not back.

“I went to the ladies’ room and couldn’t find either of you,” Mrs. Kavanagh says when I sit down. “Where did you two go?”

“We, uh,” I hesitate. “We had a little fight. I’m sure Kate just went to get some air.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “And where did _you_ go?”

There’s a knowing smirk on his face I can’t say that I like.

“I got a drink at the bar. Sorry, Mr. Kavanagh.”

Mr. K gives me a genuine smile. “And do you feel better?”

I smile back. “I definitely do.”

After a couple minutes, we decide to dig into our food, tired of waiting for Kate to return. She rejoins us a few minutes later, tucking her phone back into her purse.

“Where’d you go?” Ethan asks, mouth half-full.

“I just had to make a phone call,” she says. She lets her fingers graze my legs as she puts her napkin in her lap. She doesn’t look at me.

“Calmed down?” Ethan says. Momentarily, Kate seems to panic as her hand stops midway to her knife. “So who’s fault was it?”

I lean towards her. Now it’s my turn to tease. 

“It’s all Kate’s fault. She’s the instigator. She just pushes my buttons.” She looks at me, horror-stricken. I smile languidly at her. “Are you going to apologize to me for the fight we had in the bathroom?”

Her face transforms from one of surprise to a you’ll-pay-for-this-later glare. “Well, you were a bit rough yourself,” she says.

“Never would have happened if you hadn’t been so touchy,” I shoot back, jovially.

“When have I ever _not_ been touchy? I thought it was one of the things you liked about me.”

“Well, I’m not going to apologize,” I say, putting on my best haughty air as I take another bite of my salmon. _Damn_ , it’s good.

“I won’t either,” she retorts, turning back to her steak. 

“Women,” Ethan sighs.

 

At the end of lunch, I thank the Kavanaghs and walk back to the apartment myself so Kate can have some time to say goodbye to them – and so I can have some time to call Christian. He picks up before the second ring.

“Anastasia.”

“Mr. Grey,” I answer, melting as I walk.

“How did it go?”

“Very well, sir.” I blush, thinking back to our intense kiss.

“Did you do as I said?”

“Yes, Mr. Grey. She came in right when you said and I really only had one problem.”

“What’s that?”

I lower my voice as I pass an elderly couple on the sidewalk. “Well, I put her hands above her head like you said,”

“Yes?” He sounds… excited. Somehow that’s making me even more aroused.

“And she tried to,” I smile to the boy I pass. “Press her hips into me.”

“It figures. How did you respond, Miss Steele?”

“I held her wrists with one hand and pushed her stomach against the wall with my other.”

“Did you stop kissing at any point during this?” 

“No, sir.”

There’s a long pause. I walk by three teenage girls giggling on a bench.

“Good. Good, Ana. Do you think you can make her sign the NDA?”

I nod, though I know he can’t see me. “Yes, sir, I do.”

“Excellent. The messenger should be at your front door now.”

And sure enough, as I round the corner, I see a young, besuited man with a thin manila envelope and a large garment bag standing uncomfortably on the front step of my apartment.

“He is,” I say.

“Now listen carefully,” Christian says. 

 

Kate walks into the apartment a few minutes later and  I immediately hear her drop her bag onto the table.

“Steele?” she calls.

“In here,” I call back nervously from my bedroom.

She comes in and freezes. I turn slowly over on the bed and smile at her. This is hopefully going to be the hardest part.

“ _What_ ,” she starts, pausing for a breath, “are you wearing?” 

Innocently as I can, I say, “Oh this? It’s a gift from Christian.”

The tiny mesh bra and thong set are not what I’d call practical. The straps are too thin to be comfortable, the fabric too flimsy to be supportive. But are they ever sexy. I am aware of the skinny strapping running between my ass cheeks and under my breasts.  Every time I move, the silk mesh tickles my skin slightly. Just as Christian said, I flip the tiny ruffle along the neckline. “Do you like it?”

She says nothing for a long while, but makes herself a bit more comfortable, leaning against the doorframe.

“You look good,” she says finally. Cool as a cucumber. “So what are you doing in here so comfy in your skivvies?” 

I turn the computer so she can see the screen. Christian’s face smiles back at her. “Hi Katie,” he says from the computer.

“Hey, Chris,” she says back. She stands up straight. “Well, I’ll leave you alone then.”

“Wait,” I say. I reach across the bed to grab the envelope, exposing my backside to her. I stand up and try to look far more confident than I am as I saunter over to her. “This came for you,” I say, holding the envelope up.

She reaches to take it and I pull it just out of her reach. She seems a little antsy about this. She has to lean toward me to reach it. While she’s this close I feel my nipples perk, my skin tingle, my mouth go dry, my panties slick. I can tell she feels it too because her breath is raspy when she whispers, “Ana, Christian can see us.”

I whisper right back, “I know.”

I lean in ever so slightly like I’m going to kiss her. Just when our lips are about to touch, both of us on edge, I bite my lip and breathe, “Why do you think we’re not exclusive, Kate? Christian knows. He’s okay with it.” Then I let my tongue run along her bottom lip then turn to look at the laptop. The expression on Christian’s face is dangerous.

“But he’s all worried about what you might think if this moves forward. So he said you’re cut off until you sign the non-disclosure, okay? Can you please sign it?” She looks surprised. Again. And it is hard to surprise Katherine Kavanagh. I press my body into hers, crumpling the envelope she holds between us. “Please?”

She nods almost imperceptibly and steps around me to open the envelope at my desk. I follow her and read over her shoulder. 

It seems mostly the same as mine. Except… that it isn’t. Phrases like, “Any interactions that may occur directly or indirectly between Miss Kavanagh and Mr. Grey and/or Miss Steele,” jump out at me. How does an interaction occur indirectly? Others like, “Including, but not limited to, sensual and sexual exchanges, including forms of address,” and, “Extant arrangements between Miss Steele and Mr. Grey are to be kept strictly confidential,” do make me sound a bit like a hooker.

After a moment, Kate wheels on me. “The fuck, Grey?!” she nearly screams, spinning the laptop to face her.

Calm as ever, Christian says, “Just covering my bases, Katie.”

She considers this for a moment. “Exactly how kinky _are_ you, Chris?”

Christian simply smirks in reply.

“Well, what about your brother?”

“I do not particularly care to know how kinky he is, thank you.”

She huffs. “This seems to imply that I can’t talk to him about either of you at all. That’s ludicrous. I’m still seeing him. We’re going to talk. What am I supposed to say?” That’s a good point.

“Specificity is the heart and soul of an NDA, Katherine. Obviously, you can say we’re well, that Anastasia and I invited you to a restaurant for dinner, that we all are having an after-dinner drink at my apartment. But you are not to tell him what we will discuss at dinner tonight, about the kiss you and Anastasia will share over drinks, about what might happen after the drinks.”

I feel my panties nearly disintegrate under the heat coming form my body. 

Christian leans forward at his desk towards the camera, his look serious. 

“Katherine, it is my intention to help Anastasia explore her fantasies. We spend quite a bit of our relationship exploring mine, but this one – _you_. _You_ are _hers_. I want to facilitate that in a way that doesn’t threaten my relationship with her. It was this or risk losing her to you I’m afraid.” I blush at the admission. “If you are willing, and I believe that you are, we can discuss ways of going about this which I believe will be mutually beneficial to all involved. However, I am a very thorough man, especially when it comes to all things sexual. I won’t do anything half-assed. We will not have this discussion until you sign the NDA. Anastasia gave me my ultimatum last night. I give you yours today: Sign the NDA or I won’t let Anastasia see you.”

Now I take issue with that! “You can’t do that,” I start, but Kate stops me.

“I’ll sign,” she says quietly. I start to protest, but she turns, grabbing a pen, leaning against the desk. And it’s done. She’s signed the NDA. I’m dumbfounded. This seems like such an un-Kate-like thing to do.

“It would have been that or he’d stop seeing you, Ana, and I don’t want you to be unhappy.” And with that, she wraps her hands around my waist, pulling me towards her, and kisses me deeply. I completely forget what I was going to say as I lose myself in her. When I come back to the land of the living, it’s because Christian has cleared his throat loudly. Kate’s hand has crept around my ass and is dangerously close to Christian Territory. I pull myself away slightly and turn to the computer.

“Sorry, Mr. Grey,” I say demurely if not a bit self-consciously.

Kate looks at me. “‘Mr. Grey’?” She looks at the screen. “The fuck?” Understanding dawns on her face. “This _is_ some kinky shit, isn’t it?”

Christian smiles indulgently at her. “We will explain everything at dinner. I’m picking you both up in fifteen minutes. You are not to touch each other until I arrive, is that understood?” I nod submissively but Kate crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Or else?”

Christian growls. “You do not want to disobey me, Miss Kavanagh. Not this early. Do not push me.” He laughs to himself briefly. “You definitely have a type, Miss Steele,” he says then ends the call.

I walk past Kate to get dressed. Christian said something about going dancing. I open my closet, the contents of the garment bag that was delivered taking up 2/3 of the tiny space. There were two pairs of shoes, three skirts, four blouses, and six dresses in the one bag, not to mention an unmentionable number of unmentionables, all tucked safely in my underwear drawer where they can’t make me blush.

As I contemplate the choices, I feel Kate’s arms wrap around my torso from behind. I spin on the spot. “What are you doing?” I ask her, panicked.

“What does it look like I’m doing,” she breathes, kissing that spot where my neck meets my shoulder. _Oh god!_

“But Christian said no,” I gasp. I can’t think straight when she runs her tongue up my neck, pausing at the corner of my jaw to nibble.

“Do you always do what Christian says?” She bites my earlobe making me sigh.

No. I summon all my willpower and push her away. “Yes, Kate, I do.”

She looks genuinely hurt.

I open my mouth, not knowing what I’m going to say, but am interrupted by a knock at the door. I nearly jump out of my skin. At least this gives me a second to think. I give her an apologetic glance as I run into the living room. “He must be early,” I call to her.

“Thank _god_ you’re here,” I say, posing as sexily as I can (not hard when you’re hardly wearing anything) before throwing the front door open.

Elliot Grey looks me up and down. “Well, that’s a greeting,” he says as I slam the door in his face.


	24. Trapped

I turn around to see Kate looking almost as pale-faced and embarrassed as I feel.

There’s a long moment while Elliot knocks again. I can just hear him laughing outside.

“I forgot,” she says quietly. “I invited Elliot to dinner tonight.”

 _Thanks for telling me_.

I run back to my room to dress and to wallow in my shame. Kate waits until my bedroom door is firmly shut before opening the front door and letting Elliot in. I march over to the laptop and open up iTunes, playing whatever music is pre-loaded onto the computer in an effort to block out Elliot and Kate’s already-muffled conversation – and to drown out my hailstorm of thoughts.

“Spooky” by Dusty Springfield comes on. Who picked this music out? This doesn’t seem like Christian’s taste at all. Though I can’t say for sure what I think Christian’s taste in music _would_ be. Exclusively Rachmaninoff perhaps?

I crank it up to let myself get swallowed by the simple beat. My hips start to rock back and forth of their own volition. By the time the first verse starts up, I’m full-on dancing. I turn it up even louder and sashay my way over to the closet. I grab a pair of black Louboutin pumps and slip them on my feet, taking a look in the mirror at my gyrating form. Damn if these heels aren’t sex on a stick. 

I grab the first thing I feel in the closet - a gold Roberto Cavalli dress completely covered in beaded fringe. It has an ombre effect: almost bronze at the top and white gold at the bottom. I step into it and slip it on. It’s low-cut in the back so there’s no need for a zipper. Or a bra. I take the bra off slowly, doing a strip tease for my mirror. Watching myself in the mirror, I can see how the fringe accentuates every movement, emphasizing the curves I never think of myself as possessing. 

The saxophone starts in and I close my eyes to just dance for a bit. I can feel the silk lining rubbing over my skin and the texture of the beads running over my barely-covered nipples. I feel immensely sensual, all memory of my unfortunate run-in with Elliot Gray erased from my mind. 

I shimmy over to the dresser, grabbing the tube of bright red lipstick Kate said matched the underside of the Louboutins. I bend over and apply the lipstick in my tiny mirror, feeling the dress stretch tight across my backside delightfully. I could get used to Christian picking my clothes out for me. The fine materials he chooses feel rich and luxurious – even when they’re making me uncomfortable. _Just like our sex life_ , I think.

I smile and smack my lips at the mirror. She’s right - it matches perfectly.

I stand, snapping my finger when the beat drops.  When I stand up straight and spin around, I nearly jump out of my skin. Christian is casually leaning against my doorframe, looking like sin in a white v-neck tshirt, a black jacket, and black jeans. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him so casual in public – well, soon to be in public.

“H… how long have you been there?” I ask.

Christian stalks into the room and looks down at me, inches away. “Long enough to know what you’re wearing underneath,” he says with a mischievous smile.

I pout and the smile completely evaporates from Christian’s face. 

Oh shit.

He places both hands on my upper arms and pushes me backwards until I’m pressed against my full-length mirror. 

He doesn’t kiss me, but locks his eyes on me. He rakes both hands up my arms to my dress straps and slowly lowers them down, exposing my shoulders. The beads scrape my skin slowly, lighting a fire straight down my center. 

My dress is low enough now that the tops of my breasts are exposed. Christian pulls his eyes away from mine as he leans down to bite at the sensitive skin. My head rocks back and I moan though I know I should be quiet. He slips the dress over my nipples and takes one in his mouth, suckling it. I gasp and my eyes shoot open as he bites down hard on the tender flesh.

And then I really gasp. 

Kate is standing in the doorway, her eyes wide. She’s turning quickly to stop… _Oh crap! I forgot that Elliot’s here!_

“Christian,” I hiss, pulling the straps of my dress up and tapping him on the shoulders. “Christian!” 

Oh shit, he looks _pissed_. “What did you call me,” he snarls back. His hand reaches around me to pinch my ass harder than I’ve ever been pinched before. I try my best (and fail) to control my yelp of pain.

“Your brother’s here,” I whisper harshly.

I just manage to catch the look of surprise on his face before he reverts to his usual placid expression. He removes his hand from my ass, takes a deep breath, looks up at the ceiling, then turns to face Kate just as Elliot saunters into view.

“Hey bro,” he says lazily, smiling.

Then, like a little shit, he poses against the doorway. It’s the pose he caught me in earlier: a hand high on one side of the doorframe, a hip cocked seductively against the other. Oh, I could kill him! And I barely know him. I’ve never been prone to violence, but this man might just drive me to it.

“I thought I heard the sultry sounds of… well,” he trails off suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

“What are you doing here, Elliot?” Christian asks.

“Kate said we were having dinner,” Elliot replies. The look on Kate’s face is one of utter misery. “I heard there’d be dancing. Nice. Girls need dance partners, bro.”

“I see,” is all Christian says in response.

Yep, he’s definitely pissed.

A tense moment passes and Kate mouths a big “SORRY!” in our direction. 

“Well, I made plans for three, but they can be changed,” Christian says, pulling out his phone and walking briskly from the room.

“Way to make a guy feel welcome,” Elliot says, rolling his eyes. 

“I should have let you guys know I invited him, I’m really sorry if this screws things up,” Kate apologizes again.

“It’s okay, I’m sure. Christian just,” I hesitate. “He just doesn’t like surprises.” I lower my voice. “I’m guessing he had something special planned.”

She whispers back, her hand just touching my bare back, sending shivers along my spine. “Yeah, I gathered. I completely forgot I’d invited Elliot. I was thinking I was going to need a distraction from, well, you. But then, we were talking about maybe… tonight…” She looks totally abashed. “I forgot.”

I feel another hand wrap around my shoulders and look up to see Elliot, one arm each on Kate’s and my shoulders, looking… fucking hot. “Room in here for one more, ladies?” I feel a spike of wet heat in the pit of my stomach and shake my head to clear my thoughts. This is _Elliot_. I’m _not_ attracted to him!

But then he laughs in this completely open and defenseless way I can’t even imagine Christian doing. It’s unnerving how much it reels me in. He composes himself and shoots each of us with a smarmy grin.

It’s all a big joke to him. Thank goodness.

Kate unwraps his arm from her shoulders and turns just in time to see Christian steaming mad in the doorway.

“Elliot, if you do not remove your hand from Ana…”

“You’ll what?”

“I will break the hand.” I completely believe him.

Clearly Elliot does too. He throws both hands up in a sign of surrender. “Cool, man. Cool. Just trying to share the love.” He leans back over to Kate and wraps a hand around her waist. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We’re going to have a celebratory dinner at The Mile-High Club. That’s it.” 

Kate lets out a low whistle. “How’d you get us in there? I hear the waitlist for a reservation is like a month long.”

Elliot laughs at her side. “Don’t be too impressed. He owns the place.”

I speak up, looking right at Christian. “ _That’s_ pretty impressive if you ask me.” I can feel a spark of electricity from Christian so sharp I nearly look away. Christian crosses back over to me and mimics Elliot by putting his hand around my waist. His thumb slowly circles my hip bone and I think I might just fall over.

“We should really get a move on, it’s a pretty long drive. We can’t take Tango Charlie with this many people.” Then he leans down and kisses me just above my collarbone, squeezing my hip so I do let out a soft little moan this time.

Elliot laughs quietly. “I think it’s going to be an interesting night.”

Kate eyes me meaningfully. “That’s one word for it,” she mumbles.

 

Well, Elliot definitely knows there’s something going on. The car ride to Seattle in the Suburban was as uneventful as one could hope for given the circumstances and we managed to start dinner in the VIP section of the club innocently enough, but after a couple glasses of celebratory champagne, everyone has gotten a little… forgetful of their surroundings I suppose.

We’re sitting in a round booth, Christian and Elliot on the ends and Kate and me trapped in the middle. Christian has been running his hand up and down my right thigh for the last five minutes and Kate keeps touching me surreptitiously just like she did at lunch. Neither of them is looking at me so I don’t even know if either knows of the other’s hand touching me, but I think I might lose my mind.

“So what are you thinking of doing now that you’ve graduated, Ana?” Elliot asks. He has a devilish smile plastered across his smug face. I can’t tell if it means he’s picturing me in my underwear or because he’s less oblivious to my predicament than he’s letting on.

The idea of trying to form coherent sentences right now is really beyond me at the moment. I’m mostly focused on not writhing and moaning on the bench as Christian’s hand pulls my skirt higher, exposing my panties. At least they have tablecloths in this place.

I open my mouth to attempt speech, but close my eyes for a moment and let my eyeballs roll back in my skull, working every muscle in my body to keep from bucking. Kate’s hand has run lightly over my panties. Christian’s is tugging at the skinny elastic band.

Thankfully, Christian answers for me. I open my eyes and watch him, gratitude written all over my face.

“I was trying to convince Anastasia to come work for me, but she’s more interested in getting into publishing. He turns toward me slightly. He’s sure to know what Kate’s doing at this point. They seem to lock eyes for a moment but then his gaze rests on me again. “Unfortunately, I don’t own any publishing firms.” He smiles and snaps the elastic against my skin. “Yet.”

Kate starts talking about her new job at _The Seattle Times_ she’ll be starting Monday, a story I’ve heard a hundred times now. It’s a good thing too. Otherwise, I’d feel guilty for not following along. Christian and Kate’s fingers are playing me like a piano, each taking turns to stroke my center over my panties. 

Not for the first time tonight, I wish Elliot wasn’t here. It’s sure not to be the last either.


	25. A Graceful Exit?

By the time the waitress comes for our orders,  Christian is holding my right leg open with one hand and Kate has her leg hooked over my left. This is the only contact I’m given, but the tension in between my thighs keeps increasing as they ever-so-slowly spread me wider. I feel like they’re going to tear me apart if they don’t stop soon… or touch me.

I’m finding more and more often that when I’m aroused I’m completely incapable of functioning. I wonder how anyone ever survives road head. Reading the dessert menu is just not happening.

Thankfully, Christian orders me flourless raspberry chocolate torte with mascarpone whipped cream (yum!), but when Elliot tries to order for Kate, she completely blows up at him. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you misogynist piece of…”

“ _Christian_ did it! And Ana didn’t call _him_ a misogynist…”

“Well, they’re dating,” she snaps. “You’ll notice he didn’t attempt to order for me, did he?”

To his credit, he looks appropriately abashed, though he seems like he wants to raise an issue with the dating comment. Finally, she orders herself a glass of whiskey, handing her menu graciously to the waitress.

Kate’s tirade has clearly got her blood boiling. She squeezes my thigh hard, making me nearly gasp.

“Let’s dance,” she says. It’s less of an invitation and more of an order. Her leg is still firmly clamped over my upper thigh and I look to Christian. Will he let us up to dance? He planned for this, but as he hadn’t expected Elliot here, it’s not really clear how this will play out. He seems to be considering it.

“Chris, you have to let us out,” she says, eyeing him. “C’mon!” She’s basically bouncing on the bench, stretching me as she does so.

Reluctantly, Christian lets go of my leg and stands up from the booth. Now that I’m out from Christian’s death grip, Kate untangles herself from me and I can feel my thighs burning from the release of tension. 

“Would you ladies care for dance partners?” he asks, looking over to his brother as Kate and I awkwardly bounce along the bench seat to stand up ourselves.  I stand up first, Christian holding out his hand and pulling me close to him, our hips just touching.

“Sure,” Kate says when she bounces up at my side, grabbing Christian’s free hand. “I’ll dance with you first, Chris. Ana, you take Elliot.” And like that she pulls Christian away and I find myself dragged behind her by Elliot. Not the situation I thought I would find myself in.

The music playing is some kind of techno euro-style something or other that was once a popular love song before it was mutilated into the form dance music. The tempo is upbeat, though, which is just fine by me if I’m going to be dancing with Elliot. 

Now, I consider myself a bit of a dance spaz. I am the dancing equivalent of a shower singer: I only do it alone where no one can judge me. I can handle the bop side-to-side in public and that’s about it. But Elliot is full-on _dancing_. He’s got eyes closed, head back, hand movements, spins, dips, muscle flexes, even a couple hip thrusts. I’m sticking to my bop. The bop is good. The bop is safe. The bop is un-embarrassing and unobtrusive. No one gets mad at you for the bop. No one assumes you want to sleep with them for the bop.

“So. Ana,” he leans in and whisper-shouts in my ear. “I’m flattered, but I’m sort of seeing someone.”

No one except Elliot it seems.

“What?” No, but seriously. What?

“You must have a lot of pent-up sexual frustration since you’re dating my brother. He’s a bit of a prude.”

I really, just… I can’t respond.

“The lingerie is a nice touch, it looks great. I just don’t see it doing it for him.”

_A nice touch?_

“Listen, if it wasn’t for Kate, I’d give you a good roll. No questions asked. No one would need to know. As a favor.”

“A favor?” Holy shit, am I being propositioned by Elliot Grey?

“But Kate’s sort of the jealous type. She doesn’t like to share, you know?”

I can’t help but laugh at this. 

“There’s been some kind of misunderstanding, Mr. Grey,” I begin to say, but he cuts me off, resting his wrist on my shoulder as the music morphs fluidly into an overplayed Britney Spears song.

“I get it, Ana. We’re both hot, sexual beings. And I know the cold fish you’re dating just can’t satisfy you the way you need.” He flashes me a winning smile. 

Okay, I’ll admit it. If Christian wasn’t in the picture, I could see myself being into him.

But compared to Christian, I’m just not interested.

“I promise not to tell Christian about what happened earlier,” he says, just as Christian and Kate appear behind him to switch dance partners.

“And _what,_ exactly, happened earlier?” Christian deadpans, pulling me against him to sway sensually to the bump-n-grind beat. I feel my blood boil instantly at the contact.

“Uh, it was just an accident,” I mumble.

His grip on my hips tightens almost painfully. “ _What_ was an accident?”

“He, uh, may have seen me…” I hesitate. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I thought he was you at the door, so I answered it… in my underwear.” This time the grip is painful. 

“That bastard,” he mutters. And when I look up I see that he’s not looking back at me but is staring daggers at his brother.

“CALM DOWN, CHRISTIAN.”

Okay, well that got his attention. 

“It was an honest mistake and it was _my_ fault, not Elliot’s.” I decide right then and there I never need to mention the conversation Elliot and I just had. I am pretty confident it would result in some serious bodily harm.

“Please, I just want to enjoy our evening,” I say pleadingly, tossing him some puppy dog eyes and running a finger along his neck. “I know Elliot threw a bit of a wrench in things, but we can still have a good time, right?”

He seems to soften at this. “Yes, we can.”

I tilt my head further and pull his neck in close for a deep kiss. “Even if there’s no way to salvage the original plan for the evening, we can have fun just the two of us, right?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says against my lips and kisses me again.

 

Okay, I’m a bit drunk. 

I can still name all the Ninja Turtles. I am not wasted. I am, however, highly tipsy.

I know this because I cannot stop thinking about sex. 

Dancing makes me think of sex. This cake _definitely_ makes me think of sex. I look at Elliot, I think about him wanting to have sex with me. I look at Kate, I think about me wanting to have sex with her. I look at Christian…

Oh, he just drips sex.

No wait, that’s me. Dampness alert!

I’m hilarious.

 _Anywho_ … 

“Kate, why don’t you take Ana to splash some water on her face in the ladies’ room,” I hear Christian say, helping me to my feet. “Just make sure she doesn’t drown.”

“I feel fine, Christian,” I insist, lacing my fingers through his hair. “Seriously. Leonardo leads, Donatello does machines, Rafael is cool but rude, Michelangelo is a party dude. See? I’m good.” I pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

Kate chuckles at my side. “She gets like this. Don’t worry, this is a few steps before anything that will cause a hangover. Meet Tipsy Ana. She’s like Regular Ana, just more fun.”

Elliot leans over so he’s eye-level with me. “Yeah, bro, she seems good.” He winks at me. Gosh, he’s cute.

I lay my palm on his cheek, lift it slightly, and flop it back down on his face. “Ugh! You’re adorable. Go home, Elliot!” I say a bit more vehemently than I intended. 

Christian’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “Okay, yes. I like Tipsy Ana. Go home, Elliot.”

Elliot smiles at us and stands back up. “Ah, but she said I’m adorable. I can take a hint, though. I’m beat anyway,” he says, yawning. He turns to Kate. “You ready to go, babe?”

Kate shoots a look over to me. “I really should stick with Tipsy and make sure she’s okay.”

“But she’s got Christian,” he says.

“Yeah, but I want to stay. I want to get as tipsy as Ana tonight. But don’t worry about me. You go. You look exhausted.”

He lowers his voice at this point and tugs Kate’s arm.

“Babe, what are you going to do? Three’s a crowd. Plus, how are you going to get home?”

“Don’t worry about that, El,” Christian chimes in. “She can stay in my guest room at Escala. That was the original plan anyway. I’ll drop the both of them off  at home tomorrow.”

I reach a hand out to Elliot. “Elliot, come here.”

He gives me his hand and I wave him closer so I can whisper in his ear. 

“Elliot, you look really tired.”

He smiles congenially at me. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on going out tonight. I’ve been up since 5:30 this morning. I have to be at the job site tomorrow at,” he looks at his watch. “Holy shit! I have to be there in five hours!” He lets go of my hand and gives Kate a swift kiss. “See you later babe! Christian, thanks for taking care of the girls. I owe you one, bro,” he shouts as he flies out of the club.

Alone at last.


	26. Ready or Not...

Okay, so when it comes down to it, maybe I’m not ready for this.

After Elliot left, Christian, Kate, and I shared another bottle of champagne. And now it’s empty. There’s no legitimate reason to delay heading to Escala, so we’re going to be heading to the car any minute.

Of course _now_ is when I start panicking. Are we really going to have… a _threesome_?

I’m a good girl. I can’t do this.

“You ready?” Christian asks me.

No. No, I am not.

“Um, just a moment,” I blurt and run for the restroom as fast as my Louboutins can carry me.

Once I get there, I do just what Christian suggested I do an hour ago – I splash water on my face. I look at myself in the mirror and blink for a full two minutes, my mind reeling at the prospect of doing this incredibly depraved, hot, sick, tempting, immoral, sensual, free, experimental, reckless…

Well, this thing.

My phone rings. It’s Christian.

“Are you alright, Ana?” His voice is soft and concern colors it.

“I’m sort of freaking out.” Honesty is the best policy, right?

“Do not freak out,” says Christian Grey, the Dominant. I hesitate for a moment but I decide to trust him.

I take a steadying breath. “No, sir.”

“Kate will be in to fetch you from the restroom while I pull the car around. She’ll bring your jacket. Hold her hand on the way downstairs, but do not touch her beyond that.”

“Yes, sir.”

There’s a pause before he says quietly, “Don’t overthink this, Ana.”

“No, sir.”

He sighs heavily then hangs up.

I look down at my phone. My hands are shaking. Can I really do this? I want to, but sometimes that’s just not enough.

The door to the ladies’ room opens and I hear Kate’s heels click across the floor. 

Her finger reaches under my chin and tilts my face up to face her.

“Chris told me to tell you,” she says, taking a deep breath. She drops her voice to her lower register and does an absolutely abysmal imitation of Christian’s voice. “‘Do _not_ freak out.’ He told me to say it just like that.”

I can’t help it. I guffaw. I laugh so hard I snort. I wonder momentarily if Christian knew that her horrible impression of him would make me laugh so hard. 

“Why were you doing a British accent? He’s not British,” I gasp, wiping away moisture from my eyes.

“What?” Kate looks almost offended. “That was not a British accent!”

“Oh yes it was,” I say as she thrusts my jacket into my arms. 

“That’s what he sounds like,” she insists, grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the restroom and into the gyrating crowd.

Meanwhile, I’m laughing so hard I can hardly keep up.

“He does _not_ sound like that… at _all_ ,” I shout over the music.

“See, this is why I don’t like being the messenger,” Kate mumbles, smashing the elevator call button three times. A hot couple walks up beside us to wait, whispering in each other’s ears and feeling each other up. “The messenger always gets shot.” The doors open and she pulls me inside. 

The couple untangles itself long enough to take a step towards our elevator, but then a door behind them pings open. They choose the privacy of their own elevator and our doors close, leaving the two of us alone together.

Before I even know what’s happening, Kate grabs my jacket from me and throws it, with hers, on the floor of the elevator, then she locks her lips over mine, stifling my laughter completely. Her right hand reaches around to my back, pressing me against her, her left reaches down to the hem of my dress and kneads the back of my right thigh. I’m so lost in the moment and the sensation I moan loudly into her mouth and squeeze her ass tightly with both my hands. 

God, she has a spectacular ass.

Our kissing and groping quickens, frenetic, my mind completely devoid of thought. We’re ripping at each other’s dresses, hair, bra straps, bare skin. She tilts my head away and bites down the side of my neck, pulling at the barely-there straps of my dress, working it over my shoulders.

That’s when my phone rings.

 _Oh fuck!_ Christian said just hand-holding.

I scramble, swatting Kate away and adjusting the right strap of my dress which she’s nearly managed to work over my breast.

I try to steady my breath, checking my reflection in the still-closed elevator doors, and smooth down my hair before answering the phone.

“Hello,” I say as cheerily as possible considering I’m still huffing and puffing. Kate rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest.

“I thought I said to hold her _hand_.” At least he doesn’t sound too pissed. “Let me talk to her.”

I look over at Kate and make an apologetic look then slowly extend the phone towards her. She takes it apprehensively and puts it to her ear.

“Chris?” she says meekly. I can’t hear what Christian is saying but he’s definitely using that flat, disappointed tone I’ve become so familiar with.

“Got it. Okay we’re just at the lobby now. See you in a minute.” She hangs up and hands the phone back to me. She bends and picks up our jackets.

“What did he say?”

“He said I’m not being fair. And he’s right. If we’re doing this, we should discuss everything first.” She holds my hand again and squeezes it reassuringly. “Feel better, though?” The doors open and we walk out into the marble lobby.

I nod. Between the hysterical laughter and the sneak attack elevator action, I’d completely forgotten to be nervous.

Christian is out front, leaning against a blue classic sports car with white racing stripes. Where did that come from? We drove here in a Range Rover. It’s a freaking hot car, though, I’ll say that. Christian gives me a soft peck on the cheek and opens the driver door for us to climb in the back before sliding the seat into place and positioning himself behind the steering wheel.

“Buckle up, ladies,” he says, starting the car and revving the engine several times.

“You have a ’67 Shelby? Gah, this is my dream car. I’ve always wanted one,” Kate shouts over the roar of the engine.

“I have two. But I prefer blue,” Christian says simply, winking at me in the rear view. He punches the car into gear and squeals the tires a bit, taking off like a sprinter towards Escala.

There’s no conversation possible while we’re driving with the windows down, the engine roaring like a tiger. I let the sound pour over me, the night air whipping my hair around my head.

After just a few minutes, we arrive at Escala’s underground parking lot, then Kate and I are piling out of the backseat and into the private elevator.

Suddenly I’m self-conscious of every inch of my body, careful not to touch either Kate or Christian and they seem just as wary of me. The air is electric in the elevator as the three of us ride up, none of us daring to look at the others.

We arrive at Christian’s apartment where he leads us out into the foyer and then the massive great room. He takes our jackets silently and disappears momentarily to hang them up, returning in just his white v-neck and black jeans. 

There’s a long moment where we all look at each other. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

“I think it best we establish some ground rules,” Christian says casually, turning and slouching onto a giant white leather sofa. 

“Yes, let’s,” Kate says, slumping onto another white leather sofa. “First rule: Tell me why the fuck Ana calls you ‘sir’.”

I walk over to the wet bar and pour myself a whiskey. This is going to be a long chat. “Please try to keep an open mind, Kate,” I say, sitting on yet another giant white leather sofa.

“What Anastasia and I have is a very specific type of relationship. It’s completely consensual and we have, much like this, laid down some simple rules for our relationship based on our preferences.” More like a 12-page contract, but that’s just semantics I suppose. “I prefer she address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Grey’ whenever possible given our social surroundings.” 

That was far simpler an explanation than I imagined was possible. He probably rehearsed that.

“I hope you don’t expect me to call you that,” Kate says, snorting slightly.

“Not unless you’d like to, Kate.” He leans in towards her. “No one should be doing anything they don’t want to here. That defeats the point. Pushing our comfort levels? Sure. But this is why we have rules.”

There’s a long moment before Kate answers.

“Are you two?” she hesitates and thinks better of whatever question she was about to ask. “Okay, I don’t really know where to start with these rules.”

“Why don’t we have a safeword?” I ask.

Both of them whip their heads around to stare at me; Christian with a bit of what looks like warning and Kate with shock. 

Christian grinds his teeth slightly when Kate whips back around to him. “Better safe than sorry,” he explains.

Kate opens her mouth to lecture him but, again, thinks better of it. “Fine. Any suggestions?”

“‘Yellow’ means stop escalating, like a warning. ‘Red’ means stop,” I say.

“Immediately,” Christian clarifies. “It doesn’t matter what’s happening, everything stops. Try to avoid ‘red’.”

“Easy enough to remember,” Kate says. “What else?”

“Well,” Christian starts. “Are you, for instance, comfortable with oral sex, manual sex, coitus, anal sex, rimming, fisting, sex toys…” he trails off.

“Jesus, you get straight to the point, don’t you?” 

“I don’t like to pussyfoot around, Miss Kavanagh,” Christian says with a grin.

“Hey, pour me a drink, will you, Ana?”

I stand up and head back over to the bar. When I turn around, Christian and Kate are sitting right next to each other, heads bowed in deep conversation. I put a coaster on the coffee table in front of Kate.

“That sounds fine with me,” she says, leaning forward and taking her bourbon from me with a smile.

“Tonight will go a bit smoother, I think, if we take things slow. We don’t have to aim for the stars and call it a failure if we land on the moon,” Christian says calmly, rubbing Kate’s shoulder with one hand as she takes a long draught from her glass. I stand awkwardly for a second or two, watching as Christian works the tension out of Kate’s arm.

Kate is definitely enjoying this and I find myself wishing I was the one massaging her.

As if he can read my thoughts, Christian looks up at me and says, “Here, you take over. I’m going to put on some music.”

I kick off my heels to climb onto the back of the couch so I’m sitting above Kate and place my feet on either side of her thighs. We’ve done this exact thing a hundred times - it’s the best way to get a good angle for her shoulders. But this time seems so different, so filled with meaning, with heat.

I begin by kneading my fingers into the sides of her neck and gently work my way down to her shoulder blades. She, in return, is rubbing the back of my knee, by her shoulder, with her thumb. When my fingers work past her neck, she turns her head to the side and kisses the inside of my knee wetly. 

I let out a low groan just as music surrounds us. A slow melody on piano; a languid, easy rhythm. Christian saunters back over, walking behind the couch until I can feel the heat of him against my bare back. He reaches his hands up and starts rubbing my shoulders with his steady, reassuring grip.

Before long, I feel his lips against my ear. 

“Take off your panties, Ana.”

I feel a flood of warmth from my knee straight up to the pit of my stomach. 

A little louder he says, “Stand up a moment, Katherine.” 

Kate turns to look at him, then twists to stand, facing us.

“Now,” Christian breathes in my ear.

Locked by Kate’s intense gaze, I reach under my dress to hook my fingers into the straps of my tiny underwear and work them down slowly. Shit, this is _really_ happening.

“Give them here,” Christian says. I hold them up for him to take. He takes them and pockets them then buries his head in the crook of my neck. “Thank you, Miss Steele,” he hums, kissing my neck and shoulder.

Kate moves forward onto her knees on the seat of the couch, easing herself between my legs and running her hands slowly along the tops of my thighs, under the skirt of my dress.

“Relax,” she says softly. She leans in and kisses me softly, her eyes open, holding mine. My hands automatically find her ass and pull her even closer into me. Christian hums pleasantly behind me, easing the straps of my dress off my shoulders as I work the hem of Kate’s dress over the apple of her ass.

My kiss with Kate deepens, Christian’s hands run from my shoulders down to my breasts, squeezing and lifting them, then finally popping them free from my dress. The straps constrict my arm movements now, so I’m unable to reach all the way behind Kate. Christian takes my chin and tilts it up towards him, kissing me hard, biting my lip, making me gasp. Kate takes the opportunity to slip her dress off over her head and toss it behind her.

When I turn back to her, my jaw nearly drops open. The bra she’s wearing is little more than white elastic straps with a couple of pasties thrown in. The panties seem utterly pointless: as far as I can see, there’s no actual fabric to them, just some criss-crossing elastic banding that doesn’t cover _anything_ important.

She presses her nearly nude body against me, bending just enough to pull me into another long kiss. I feel feverish, my skin tingling all over. Christian’s fingers are circling my nipples, pinching, pulling, twisting the tender flesh while Kate’s hands are slowly roaming from the tops of my thighs around to my hips, then to the backs of my thighs…

I can feel the rumble of Christian’s chest against my back when Kate straightens herself, breaking our kiss to address him.“You, _sir_ , are wearing entirely too much clothing.” I reach my hands back and tug at his belt, but he steps away from me and pulls his t-shirt over his head. He presses his front into my back again and runs his hand through Kate’s hair to pull her toward him. Her breasts just graze my face and his erection presses against my ass as the two of them share their first kiss. I hesitate, not wanting to ruin their shared moment, when I realize — this is it. We’re in the middle of it.

 _I’m_ in the middle of it. Literally.

I reach my hands behind me again and squeeze Christian’s cock for all I’m worth, biting the underside of Kate’s left breast gently at the same time.

Their simultaneous intake of breath is so satisfying to me, I feel myself getting even wetter. Kate must have had the same idea because she breaks their kiss and I feel her run her hand along my opening, dipping just the tips of her fingers inside of me. I’m momentarily dizzy, but as I’m firmly wedged between Kate and Christian, I’m confident I won’t be falling over any time soon.

Christian grabs Kate’s wrist, lifting her hand to his mouth, and sucking my juices from her fingers.

“Mm, I’d say she’s ready, Miss Kavanagh,” he says, letting go of her wrist, but grabbing both of mine. “Enough of this topping from the bottom, Miss Steele,” he whispers in my ear, lifting my arms above my head. “Stay like this.”

He works my dress up until it’s covering my face,  blocking my view but leaving the rest of my body naked and exposed. “As punishment for your ride in the elevator,” he says so quietly Kate couldn’t possibly hear. I squirm at the suggestion, my whine muffled by the heavy fabric. 

I feel a breeze between my thighs and know Kate has stood up from the couch. 

“Put your hands behind my neck,” Christian says and I comply, locking my fingers around his neck, stretching my body slightly. “Good. Very good. Just like that.”

I feel his hands cup my stretched breasts and his fingers tweak my nipples. I can hear Kate rustling around in front of me. Then Christian lifts and pushes my breasts together and I feel a tongue between them, teeth biting the fleshy undersides of them, lips suckling my nipples. Christian bites my neck and I scream just a little. Kate’s fingers run up the insides of my thighs, converging just shy of that tiny bundle of nerves at the center of me.

She scratches her nails lightly down my torso next as Christian continues his ministrations upon my breasts, caressing them until I lose my breath. 

“She’s close, Miss Kavanagh,” Christian breathes.

“I know,” she purrs back, her kisses trailing over my belly button, working their way slowly, too slowly, down to my sex. 

I can feel my knees shaking when Kate stretches them wider. She runs her hands back up from my knees once more and this time she lets her hands grab at my ass, pulling me forward just a little so I’m leaning against Christian’s chest. I feel him nod under my hands, pinching my nipples hard.

Kate eases her fingers inside of my as she kisses my clit, sending wracking waves through my entire body. 

“Oh god, I’m going to come,” I cry.

“Good,” Christian and Kate whisper simultaneously. 

Christian releases his hold on my nipples and Kate sucks my clit into her mouth, pumping her fingers in and out of me. 

I was not prepared for this.


End file.
